Hiding Out
by LookUpI'mThere
Summary: Set directly after CA:TWS, after SHIELD secrets are uploaded Natasha finds herself hiding out and no one is better at that than Doctor Banner... A lead up to AoU (containing spoilers) and the creation of the Lullaby. First Avengers fic
1. Chapter 1

**So my first Avengers fic :) exciting! Set after The Winter Soldier, as Natasha and Bruce hide out together, basically a lead up0 to their relationship in Age of Ultron. No Bruce in this chapter :( but Tony- yay.**

 **TW: sucidal thoughts**

It'd have been nice if she'd pulled that file for Steve on the Winter Soldier as a selfless favour. Little of what she ever did was selfless. Passing him the Manila file, the Captain slid underneath a folded piece of paper. A rush of gratitude surged over her in that DC graveyard. Leaning up she placed a small kiss on his cheek.

"Thanks Cap," she whispered, before wandering off.

The Captain now had a new mission, and a new wingman- literally. Laughing at her own pun she unfurled the paper. SHIELD wasn't actively following Banner but they kept one eye on the doc.  
LAST SEEN: Stark Tower, NY, USA  
The last sighting was in an Instagram picture of some party at the Stark Tower. Of course when she has to hide the first place she needs to go is the most obvious building in the world. And of course Tony Stark had an Instagram- a popular one she discovered after some quick searching. The link was old, but it was something.  
An express direct train to New York would make sense and be easy, but with SHIELD secrets poured over the Internet, easy wasn't really an option. Commuter trains were always packed. Running through obscure towns with weird names she wondered what she was doing. Skinny black jeans clung to her legs, emphasising the muscle tone. She'd picked up a band t-shirt from a shop and topped it all off with a navy hoodie. Inconspicuous. She took three trains in total, changing at nowheresville trying to keep a low profile.  
Opposite her as they trundled into New York a man read the newspaper: SHIELD SECRETS REVEALED, declared the headline. Squirming slightly Natasha was desperate to get off the train and out of sight. With her hood up and her head down, she slunk through Central Station and out onto the sunny pavement. Stark's money and expertise had rebuilt the city pretty well but the Stark Tower was still awaiting reconstruction.

"JARVIS?" standing in the doorway she felt stupid and questioned turning back.

"Welcome back Ms Romanoff."

The lift doors slid open, making the decision for her.

"Mr Stark is in his lab," JARVIS informed her.

Expecting Tony to be wandering around editing pieces of tech, she was surprised to see him just sitting at a table.

"Stark?"

"Hey there." Turning to her, she could see what New York had done to him. Bags hung under his eyes, he hadn't shaved. Seeing Iron Man like this was off putting.

But his charm was still there: "you have had a very exciting past."

"Watch it," she warned.

"He's not here," he revealed.

Her heart plummeted.

'Am I that obvious?' she wanted to ask, but she supposed she must be if he saw it that quickly.

"Where is he?"

"First food, then answers. When did you last eat?"

2 days, 4 hours, last time she checked.

* * *

On what used to be the Stark Tower helipad/entrance, the pair sat sharing Thai food. Wind was low as was the sun. Natasha was famished and the noodles did not last long.  
The conversation was at first no existent, then, as if some kind of peace offering, Tony admitted something, "I think about jumping off here. Ending it all, with that view as my last image."

She was surprised to say the least. Iron Man was a charmer, a hero, a man considering suicide.

"Have you talked to Pepper?" she asked in between bites of chicken.

Sighing, he told her, "I think she's leaving me." Realising that statement required elaboration, he continued, "she's always finding a reason to be away, working. Says when we sleep I have nightmares and when I don't I hold her so tight she worries she'll break."

Breathing in the polluted, golden air, Natasha turned to Tony and said, "I think about him all the time." Saying Bruce's name was a step too far but at least she'd begin the journey. "I'm worried he'll see all the stuff online about me and what I've done and be scared off."

Worried was an understatement, terrified was more apt.

Reaching into his pocket, Tony removed a small card, "he left this."

In the doctor's scrawled handwriting was a phone number and a place: Alexandria, Scotland.

She had nothing to offer but advice: "You need to see a doctor, to talk about this."

"Pepper said the same, she left a number on table before she ran off again."

"Call it."

The unshaven shell of her friend nodded, it was a promise.

"Take this," Tony demanded handing over a glimmering credit card.

"I can't-"

"How else are you going to get there?"

Good point, she thought begrudgingly.

"Look after him," the request resembled more of a plea. "He's the closest thing I've ever had to a friend."

"Look after yourself," the reminder made Tony miss Pepper even more.

This conversation would never be referred to again, neither party really feeling like they'd actually taken part. She headed for the lift as he scoured the marble top for the card Pepper had left. Feeling so far away form who they really were they hoped being with the people they cared about might just bring them back.

 **I recognize its a bit OOC but kinda the point atm. Already working on chapter 2 where Bruce will finally appear, tell me what you thought. Have a great day!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again! Thanks for all the in credible support, writing this has been a welcome distraction from exams. However, I am notoriously bad at updating so if there is a dely between this chapter and the next I apologize. And yay we finally get Bruce. I hope you enjoy :)**

On the plane, she finally slept. Curled up against the window, she was undisturbed from JFK to Edinburgh. It had been years since she'd flown on a legal passport that had her real name. She hated it. Travelling light she glided past the other weary travellers awaiting luggage. In all the years of work and experience she'd never step foot in Scotland before.

She finally had to call him. On the first ring, she thought this was a bad idea. During the second, she was sure of it. By the third, she decided it was best to hang up. But before she could he was there:

"Hello?"

"Hi Doctor Banner, it's Natasha."

"Not trying to recruit me again are you?" he joked.

"No, not exactly."

"What can I do for you?"

"SHIELD is gone and I need somewhere low to hide."

"Where are you?"

"Edinburgh airport."

Bruce sighed but she could hear the smile on his face. Staring out at the continuing rain, she decided that sigh of his was the best sound she'd ever heard.  
"Get a cab to Edinburgh Waverly station then buy a ticket going to Glasgow Queens Street. Take that train, get off of the penultimate stop called Falkirk. I'll pick you up there."

"Where are you at the moment?" she asked realising she'd been quite quiet so far.

"Garelochhead."

"You just said random syllables strung together that made no sense."

The doctor chuckled down the phone. Scrap that, Bruce's laugh was the best sound ever.  
"Well I'll pick you up at Falkirk."

"Thanks."

With that, he hung up. Years of being a top class spy meant navigating Bruce's instructions wasn't hard. Stark was paying for this entire endeavour and she made a note to herself that she ought to pay him back at some point. After a short train and a chatty cabbie later, she found herself at a station that looked like it was out of a dolls house scenery. She lingered outside the station awaiting the doctor and trying not to attract too much attention. Rolling up in a cherry red pick up, spattered with mud, the shy doctor she remembered couldn't have suited it less. She slid into the passenger seat. Her eyes rolled over the navy trousers and the loose white shirt; he looked good. Fear suddenly hit her and questions regarding what he knew.

"So what happened?" he asked.

"You don't know?"

"I live in the middle of nowhere with patchy tv signal, what do you think?"

"Well, SHIELD has been infiltrated by Hydra since forever. To shut it down, we- I put all of the secrets on the Internet. Everything SHIELD knew, everything."

Silence hung for a while before Bruce asked, "are you okay?"

"Yeah," she smiled not expecting him to say that.

"Good-"  
"The files on the Hulk and you were separate so you're pretty safe," the assurance was warm.

"Thanks. So, I've got a spare room you can hide out in...I mean if you like, you don't have to," the doctor stuttered through the invitation.

"You don't hate me?"

"What?" he exclaimed looking over to her, his hands turning the wheel assured of where the corners were. He knew the road too well. "Of course not!"

"You don't understand what I've done-"

"Do you want to talk to me about it?" The words lodged somewhere in her throat and she was worried she may be sick. Bruce took her silence as a no. "Then it doesn't matter and it never will. Now, do you want to stay in the spare room?"

"I'd appreciate that."

Yes, Bruce breathed in.

"That means we'll go to the supermarket and pick up some stuff."

"I need hair dye, probably go blond-"

He interrupted abruptly, "Don't!" The vigour surprised both of them. "I mean, sorry, I meant you look really good as a red head. And no one in this tiny town will even know who you are."

"Nice you think this is my natural colour," she commented.

They both smiled as he informed her, "it's about half an hour to the supermarket then another thirty minutes to the house. That okay?" he asked as if her complaining would change it.

Resting her head against the window, the noise blaring from the radio blurred into undeterminable sounds. Her whole body relaxed, finally, as if her muscles understood what her brain now knew: he didn't hate her.

"It's raining," she said nonchalantly to no one in particular.

"It's West Scotland, you'll have to get used to the rain."

She could get used to it, she thought. Half an hour passed quickly when she was dissing his music taste- "The Smiths are pretentious!" "They're beautiful!"- and it wasn't long before they were at the supermarket. They bought the usual groceries: bread, eggs, milk. She picked up some clothes: plain leggings, a vest top. Slipping into the pharmacy aisle she picked up co concealer, foundation and other things Bruce couldn't see the need for.

"You don't need that stuff to be beautiful," the words halted in his throat.

He paid, refusing to spend anymore of Tony's money.

"He misses you, you know?" she told him. "Think you're his best friend."

Bruce didn't reply as they pulled out of the car park. Mentioning her conversation with Tony was out of the question.

More rain fell as they continued to rumble down single track roads. Suddenly, when it began to feel like they were really on the edge of nowhere, Bruce swerved off taking the truck up a steep hill. Resting at the top was a simple two storey house. Painted white, Nat suddenly felt as if she were trespassing on somewhere quite intimate. The sudden jolt of the pickup's handbrake bought her back to Earth.

"You're very welcome here."

She hated that he could practically read her mind. Hurrying in to escape the rain, the two stood close in the cramped porch as Bruce searched for his keys. Finally opening the inner door the house opened up. The light poured into the hall, red carpeted stairs directly in front of her. Past them she supposed was the kitchen. To the right a living area where magazines and book were strewn across the couch, floor and table. Bruce quickly tried to pile up some of the papers, embarrassed by the mess.

"It's lovely." She hadn't realised she was even speaking until it was said. She meant it though.

Looking up with a surprised expression that faded into a smile, Bruce finally began to relax.

"I haven't showed you the best bit yet," he said before leaving out of the living room by a back door.

Following she saw him opening a set of doors. Leading out she stared over the rolling hills and water that lay down. The view went on for miles, the sun perched above it all. Resting her hands on the banister at the edge of the deck, his eyes glazed over her incredible figure.

"I lied slightly before," he admitted quietly. She turned to face him resting against the banister. "There is a spare bedroom," he continued, "but there's no bed in it. So you're taking my room-" He raised his hand to stop her interruption. "I'm serious." She smiled embarrassed and peer down at her feet in an uncharacteristic moment of shyness. "What?" He probed.

Looking up she tilted her head slightly at the doctor. "I like it when you take control."

He chuckles slightly looking away fearing if he stared any longer she'd understand everything he wasn't saying.

Wandering over to her side, he assured her, "I'll sleep on the couch. It's not likely I ever actually sleep anyway."

She nudged him slightly with her shoulder in reassurance that he definitely wasn't alone.

Looking back over the horizon he smiled and said, "welcome to the edge of nowhere."

 **So being Scottish my self and having recently visited Garelochhead I couldn't think of a better place to put these two. This fic will be slow and fluffy but also angsty and I really hope you stick with it and ,me :) Please leave a comment and have a great day!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for all the lovely support you've given me- it's honestly made me so happy! Hope you like the next chapter, a story arc will start to form at some point but for now it's just setting the scene. Stick with me :)**

"The room is up the stairs on the left," Bruce said after a while. "I better go get the stuff out the car."

Nat looked at the view for a few more moments on the deck before returning inside. Pushing open the wooden door she heard the house creak. The bed rested against the far wall away from the door, underneath a skylight. An acoustic guitar stood propped against the adjacent light blue painted wall; something she definitely didn't expect to see. Next to the bed: a simple nightstand where lay a tatty copy of Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men. Pulling open the cupboard, she traced her fingers over the fabric hidden behind. To her surprise, a rather classy suit hid at the back. Moving away she turned back to the room. The bed was made, his shoes sat together at the foot of it, the room filled with light.

"You okay?" Bruce asked, leaning against the door frame. She nodded taking her share of the shopping from his hands. "If there's anything you need, the wifi isn't bad and you can get pretty much anything online I've learnt."

Visibly uncomfortable, she decided to distract him. "Could you get my duffel bag out the car?"

"Sure," he replied diligently.

After he vanished off, she pulled off the t-shirt she'd travelled in.

"Sorry I left the keys-" Bruce suddenly said walking back into the room. "I err I..."

"You alright there Doctor Banner," quite happy to evoke a reaction like that.

"Just surprised," he said, regaining some of his composure. Glazing over her smooth skin, he focused on the scar at his hip. "Expected you to have tattoos."

With that he left. She swallowed and tried to make sure she kept standing. A thumb rubbed over the skin where that Soviet slug had ripped through her. She pulled on a light grey tank top. It was beginning to dim outside, seven o clock creeping up on the pair. Returning downstairs she found Bruce in the kitchen.

"Hungry?" he asked.

She nodded before replying, "who taught you how to cook?"

"My mum mainly, we lived in the outskirts of New York State with not a lot of money so she kinda had to be inventive about cooking."

Laying her hip against the countertop she stared at him. He didn't turn to look at her, focusing on the pan below him.

"So what are we having?" she asked when it became clear he didn't want to elaborate on the subject.

"Tomato pesto and pasta."

"Have we got grated cheese for it?"

"Fridge," he pointed to the side room.

Freezing it contained nothing but the fridge. Nat pulled out the cheese and two bottles of beer. Bruce passed her the grater and suddenly jumped. She had opened the two bottles by slamming the tops on the edge of the kitchen top.

"We have a bottle opener you know," he reminded her, still reeling slightly from the shock.

"You're no fun," she poked her tongue out at him.

Beside the hob, she lay down his bottle before beginning to grate cheese. Bruce looked at home in the kitchen, or possibly just this house in general. He plated up and passed her a bowl of the rather delicious looking meal. Covering the pasta in cheese, she then followed Bruce out onto the deck. The rain had worn off and the pair rested in the two wooden chairs. Thankful to be off her feet, Nat pulled in her knees. Resting the bowl against her thighs she began to dig in. Although it was simple it was very nice and warming.

"You want a blanket?" he asked passing her the fluffy rug.

"I grew up in Russia," she reminded him, Scotland was nothing in comparison. But she took the blanket nevertheless, laying it round her shoulders.

"I think watching my mum cook was one of the reasons I got interested in science."

Hearing Bruce speak fondly of anything was uncommon and she appreciated his openness.

'Be brave,' she told herself. 'Tell him something personal.'

But she didn't have the strength, not tonight at least. The pair spent most of the night in silence and working through the beer they had. When they'd come to the end of the pack, bottles and plates littering the deck floor, Bruce asked:

"I'd ask if you want some vodka but I don't know if we have any...and I'm not sure if that's racist."

Giggling, her tipsiness was clear. She felt so light. Holding his gaze, she considered stretching out her hand for his.

"Want me to carry you to bed?" he offered.

"I'm not that drunk," she giggled again before rising up. She shrugged off the blanket and passed it back to Bruce.

"Sleep well," she whispered before wondering back to the bed.

Falling onto the bed, she felt like she was sinking into a marshmallow. Staring up she realised why he'd positioned the bed here. Clear skies allowed stars to shine through into the room. She didn't want to close her eyes.

 **Hope you liked it :) leave a comment below and have a great day!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello again my beautiful readers! Hope all is well with you and thank you for your continued support, whenever I get an email saying someone has followed/favourited/reviewed my work it honestly makes my day. This story is going to be slow and gradual because I personally feel that's what their relationship calls for. I hope you stick with me and enjoy this chapter :)**

There were several things Bruce didn't know about Natasha before she moved in. One being that she played music all of the time. His laptop had been somewhat stolen by the redhead who now played her favourite songs through the house. The two spent time on the deck and on the couch reading mainly. Using more of Stark's money, Natasha invested in some things for the house and for Bruce. Returning from his morning run- "You take morning runs?" "I may not be Captain America, doesn't mean I don't keep in shape"- she was in the kitchen, in nothing but a hoodie and a tiny pair of shorts. Eyes rolled up her legs past her gorgeous arse to her neck that he so desperately wanted to kiss. Resting on her tiptoes, she was singing along to another terrible country song- he really didn't understand why she liked it so much.

"Morning," he said finally, so not wanting to interrupt her. "First time you've been up before I got back."

"Yes!" she said enthusiastically. "Because an order arrived today and someone had to open the door for the postman and I'm really excited by it," the uncharacteristic excitement continuing.

"As clear by your lack of punctuation?"

"Just come with me," she resolved grabbing his hand before he could pull it away. Leading him into the living room she revealed her present, "Ta dah!"

Resting against the back wall of the room was a whiteboard. Scrawled across in Nat's handwriting were the words: 'Thank You!'

"I feel like you've been missing doing work with Tony so thought the house could do with a new place for you to write formulae and stuff," she beamed.

The grin broke out as he looked at her smug face. "This is so nice," he said, "thank you." His mind went into over drive thinking about formulae and the warmth radiating from her hand. "What's that smell?" he asked.

"Shit," she ran.

An ache overwhelmed his body at the sudden absence of her hand. Shaking his head, trying to remove these thoughts he followed her into the kitchen. The culprit: burnt toast.

"I think we should stick to me making breakfast." He turned round to find them closer than he'd thought. Grazing her shirt with his fingers, he toyed with the possibility of wrapping a hand round her hip. Then he stepped back, because that was their relationship; they'd step towards each other then one of them would change their mind and turn away. Turns out it was Bruce's day to do that. "And turn off that racket," an arm gestured to the laptop, as he went for more bread.

Natasha shut down the computer and sauntered up to her room, without breakfast. Tiring. This relationship- whatever it was- exhausted both of them. Ever trying to anticipate the other's actions and usually getting it wrong drained them. Flipping pancakes calmed Bruce slightly. He began grating chocolate over the plated food; another thing he's learnt Natasha Romanoff had a very sweet tooth. Knocking gently he debated leaving her breakfast by the door.

"Yes?" she asked.

Bruce smiled apologetically. She welcomed him into her room, letting go of some of her ghosts. Cross legged they shared the chocolate pancakes between them.

"Country is at least better than the Smiths," she interjected.

Offended, Bruce moved the plate away from her. She was tempted to stab the fork into his leg but feared the possibility of him Hulking out. That was always in the air, the possibility of a sudden change in all that he was. He could see the fear in her eyes. Instead of facing the conversation he handed her back the plate.

"Thank you for the whiteboard," he repeated his earlier comment. "Think Tony will start sending me some work when I let him know."

"Glad you like it," she smiled.

The pair managed to spend away hours sitting together on that bed. Long after the pancakes were finished they were still there, giggling at bad jokes and arguing over pretty much everything. This was the step forward, both determined not to be the one to step back.

* * *

Lazily she read out on the deck, some book she'd found on his shelf. Words glossed over her.

"Come on," he said appearing from the living room. "We're going out to dinner."

Following him through the house, she was glad to see the whiteboard was in use. Scrawled in blue and green, formulae unknown to her. While he swung on a jacket, she snatched the keys from off the table.

"I want to drive," she announced.

"Not a chance," he smirked in response.

"Why not?"

"You'll drive too fast-"

"I always abide by speed limits." Lie.

"No, I don't trust you with her."

Glazing over his lack of trust she parroted, "her? Your car has a gender! Does she have a name as well?" Bruce kept silent. "Oh my god, what is it?"

"Stop being a child," he advised, taking the keys out of her hand.

On the ever bumpy road into town Bruce said quietly, "she's called Scarlett. On account of the paint job."

Forcing back a giggle, Natasha had to admit she liked the name. Garelochhead had one pub, that double up as a b'n'b, by the name of The Anchor. It was as they got out the car and yet another person waved at Bruce, Natasha asked:

"How come everyone knows you?"

"Well I do odd jobs for people to make money, I mean it's a small town and you pretty much know everyone in it after a while." Pulling open the door of the pub he said, "how did you think I made money?"

"You just don't think a scientist would be that useful. So what kind of jobs do you do?"

"Gardening, mechanical stuff- it's easier to call me than wait for someone from Glasgow to drive here, babysitting. People trust me here," after a moment of hesitation he concluded, "it's nice."

The back booth they sat in was lined with old, rough fabric. Bruce got up and returned with two glasses of Scotch.

"It's local and it's gorgeous so just try it," he responded to her unimpressed smirk.

The glass rested gently against her lips making Bruce jealous of the inanimate object. Taking a large sip, he waited for her verdict.

"Not a patch on vodka," she concluded and he sighed shaking his head.

"People here are great. You know I've never paid for a drink in this place."

Raising her eyebrows, she stole a look at the the bartender before returning her gaze to Bruce.

"That has more to do with you than you think," she teased.

Genuine confusion covered his face.

"He's flirting with you, doofus," she informed him.

"First, doofus really?" Shrugging she waited for him to continue. "Second, he's not flirting with me. Why would he?"

An instant list formed in Natasha's head, but she wouldn't let a single one of those thoughts slip.

"I'm just saying you definitely have a shot there; I don't know what you're into doc." As she spoke, that burning feeling in her neck was growing on her. "I don't mind, I'm bi so I won't judge."

"Really?"

"Does it surprise you that I like girls?"

"No just that you'd bother giving yourself a label." Taken aback by his comment, she finished the glass. "Nah, I'm straight, I'm pretty sure I am at least."

The intimate conversation was oddly nice, like they were finally friends as opposed to just two freaks who happened to live together temporarily.

"Vodka this time," she told him. "Want anything?"

"I'll get it."

Smiling knowingly she teased, "go back to your boyfriend doc."

That was the first of many nights spent in the Anchor. Natasha had finally told him something personal and those demons in her head seemed to finally be getting quieter.

 **I personally find when I'm getting to know someone after I've had a conversation about sexuality I suddenly feel a lot closer so I decided to use that in my writing. Also I always complain about poor LGBT+ representation so I decided to write some in. I hope you liked all the little jokes :) Please leave me a comment thanks. Have a great day!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey so as DudeYouJustTotallyStoleMyCar (awesome pen name btw) it was getting a little OOC so with the help of Tony Stark I've tried to bring Natasha at least a little bit more like herself but also included my own spin on how I think she'd interact with children (warning this chapter contains smaller humans...) I hope you still like it and thanks for your continued reading :)**

Hiding wasn't a solution and both of them knew it. It was an email from Tony that reminded them both of that.

 _'Hi love birds'_

Neither of them appreciated Tony's opening line. What followed meant very little to Nat- science formulae and words that didn't resemble English.

 _'Cap sent you a message, Nat:_

 _Another cold lead. You're missed out on the field.'_

The field felt like a whole other world right now. She was an agent, an assassin, a fighter. Hiding out wasn't part of her job. Battle plans, strategies and guns were the things she'd been taught to use. Leaving the kitchen she passed Bruce's whiteboard. Letters, arrows and number in a variety of colours fought for space. She may not understand the parts but she knew the product: a serum, a "cure". That would always be Bruce's battle plan and it wasn't one she was willing to bet on. When it came to Bruce, it was time for a plan B.

Passing him a cup of tea while he worked, she asked, "are you close?"

"Nothing stable enough yet." Hope remained in his voice.

"What keeps you calm?" she probed.

"What?" She repeated herself but he still remained confused. "I just...runaway and ignore it I guess or think about other things."

"What do you think about?"

"Wow, you're chatty tonight. Why does it matter?"

"Because if you can control becoming the Hulk we need to find a way you can come back just as controlled," she explained her idea.

Horrified- that's the only way to describe how he looked.

"I can't-"

"You could try."

"No!" The boom of his voice echoed and he wondered if the house would shake.

The past weeks, she had been so relaxed, so different and he had enjoyed it beyond belief. She was Nat, not Agent Romanoff. Now they were back to...to whatever this was.

"I won't be SHIELD's weapon."

"There's no SHIELD," she reminded him. "This is for you-"

"No this is for you!" he screamed back. Like a spider, he could feel the Other Guy creeping in. Seeping into his thoughts like poison. "I have to go."

Practically running out the house, Bruce did what seemed to be becoming his party trick: fleeing.

"Well you could have handled that better, Romanoff," she said to herself.

While Bruce was out Nat took the opportunity to play all the music he hated most. A knock at the door interrupted her duet with Carrie Underwood. Laying on the living room table by scattered papers were Bruce's keys. The spy in her still reached for one of the guns she had hidden around the house. For safety, of course. Pushing the gun into the back of her waistband she opened the door. To her surprise it wasn't Bruce, unless he'd somehow transformed into a stout woman.

The guest looked as confused as Natasha but asked anyway, "is Bruce here?" Her accent was thick and she was definitely local. Probably not a threat.

"Err no," Nat replied.

"Ah shit," the woman responded before Nat could say anything else. Her eyes then rolled up and down the Russian before asking, "are you Bruce's wife?" she tried.

"No, just a friend," well that might be a strong word at the moment.

"Look, I need to drive to Glasgow- emergency I won't bore you with- would it be at all possible for you to look after my two kids?" Bruce was right, people trusted each other in Garelochhead, too much for her liking. "I'll only be gone for a few hours."

Peering round to the car behind the mother to see two kids, a boy and a girl, a little older than Clint's.

"Sure." What the hell was she doing?

Before Natasha could take it back, the woman was rushing back to the car to let out the kids. Natasha took the opportunity to put back the gun from her waistband into a side draw.

"Okay this is Luca," the woman patted the blonde boy, "and Caroline. Thank you so much for this."

The little girl looked very shy and stood only at Natasha's hip. The trio watched as the clunky black Ford pulled away.

'Right,' she braced herself.

"Do you guys wanna do some baking?" she suggested, hopefully as her mind whirred through the contents of the kitchen.

"Flapjacks!" Luca exclaimed.

Natasha was sure she could manage flapjacks. Kneeling down she looked at Caroline. Unlike her brother, she had mousy brown hair but both of them had chocolate eyes.

"What kind of things do you like to bake Caroline?"

Looking up slightly the little girl wondered whether Natasha was someone she could trust.

"Cupcakes," the almost inaudible response came.

"Let's go make some then."

She straightened her back and then felt Caroline's tight grip around her hand. With the aid of wifi, honey and oats, the trio managed to muddle through flapjacks. Lifting the tiny girl of the floor, Natasha managed to let Caroline mix together the sticky ingredients. Luca sat atop the kitchen counter creasing the tray. When the flapjack mixture was ready, Caroline was much more comfortable around Natasha and as a result louder.

"Can we make cupcakes now, please?"

"Course we can."

By the time both trays of baked goods were in the honour and icing was being made, the kitchen looked like a bombsite. Butter cream icing was being stirred by little Caroline and Luca decided to tell Natasha how awesome he thought Bruce was.

"He's the cleverest guy I know," finished Luca's little speech. "Do you like him?"

Natasha appreciated the innocence with which Luca asked, like the world was complicated, you either liked people or you didn't.

"I like him very much," and it was the truth.

"Are you his girlfriend?"

"Definitely not, just friends," she replied.

"I bet his girlfriend is super smart too."

She smiled as the oven pinged. Before the icing could be added, the cupcakes had to cool.

"Can we play a game?" Caroline's little eyes stared up at Natasha hopefully.

"Well I can show you something fun outside." Natasha had spent a long time with Clint, Laura and the kids up in the farm and had learnt a thing or two. "Come with me." Taking both of Caroline's hands firmly in hers Natasha told her sternly, "don't let go of my hands." Spinning on the spot Natasha twirled around the small girl on the grass. Giggling incessantly, Caroline loved that sensation of flying.

"I want a go, I want a go," Luca repeated.

Slowing down, Natasha returned Caroline to solid ground before taking Luca. The older boy loved it as much as his sister. Honestly, no matter how fit she knew she was, Natasha did feel out of breath by the time Luca and Caroline were too dizzy to carry on. Returning inside they began messily icing the cakes. It was mid this attempt, Bruce returned.

"It's open," Natasha called through the house.

Walking through the house, Bruce was beyond surprised to see the two children and Natasha in the kitchen.

"Bruce!" Luca exclaimed in excitement.

Hurrying over, with sticky hands Luca gave the scientist a hi five.

"Hey champ," replied Bruce still slightly confused by what parallel universe he'd wandered into. "Where's your mum?"

"Had to go into Glasgow, Natasha has been baking with us," little Luca explained.

"Has she?" The scientist smile and his anger towards the red head faltered slightly.

"Could you get a knife and cut up the flapjacks?" Natasha asked Bruce, handing him across above Luca's head a knife.

Caroline was licking off anymore remaining icing from her fingers. The domestic scene felt surreal and even when Caroline and Luca's mum returned to get them it still felt odd.

"Did you guys have a good time?" the Scot asked her children who were diligently packing their baked achievements to take home.

Positive cries came as a response and Bruce moved to the hall.

"Sorry I wasn't in earlier, is everything okay?"

"My dad is in hospital in Glasgow and things don't look great. Tell your girlfriend I'm sorry for just ditching them on her." Drained by the day, the woman reached for her wallet.

"Don't worry about that," Bruce assured her.

"Thanks, she's definitely a keeper."

"Oh no, she's just a friend."

"A woman would do you good Bruce." Caroline and Luca ran over to their mum followed by Natasha who stood shoulder to shoulder with Bruce above their guests.. "Thanks so much dear."

Natasha shrugged off the gratitude, patting Caroline's head before they followed their mum outside. The black car slid past Bruce's red truck and disappeared down the road.

"Didn't know you were good with kids?" he turned, deciding the conversation had to start somewhere.

It wasn't Natasha's place to tell Bruce about Clint's home situation. Nodding, she went back to the kitchen clearing up the rest of the bowls.

"I can do that."

"It's fine, Bruce," she assured him.

Sighing, he decided to tackle this head on, "you don't think there's a cure?"

"I don't think you need one." Finally she said it. She'd meant plenty of men who were monsters and knew Bruce was definitely not one of them. "But if you want one fine. Until then you need a plan-"

"I'm not a strategy you can manage, Nat!"

He was a self taught expert at keeping calm, but right now she was so much more in control.

"Plan A is a cure. Plan B is my idea, finding a way to talk you out of the Hulk," she explained.

"How the hell will that work?"

"He's more a part of you than you'll recognise, he's trying to protect you-"

"You fucking sound like Tony. I won't be a weapon!"

The pair were going to end up in circles unless one of them gave in.

"Beer?" she suggested.

"Sure."

The evening rolled into one of their usual nights spent drinking on the deck. She was a spy, an agent, a soldier and hiding was not her long term plan.

 **So yeah I hope that was a bit more in character even if it was a bit shouty and sad. I imagine Natasha being incredible with kids. My dad used to swing me round like that in a game we called Helicopter and I have great memories of that so that was my inspiration. I'd love some feedback because I'd really appreciate knowing if the characters are working for you guys before I try and form a story arc. Thanks for reading and have a great day :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**This story is fast becoming my escape form the real world. I am considering a story post AoU, I'm loving how people are writing theirs and thought I might take my own spin to it. This is still quite gentle but I hope you like it.**

People presume nightmares are for children, like fear dissipates with age. They're wrong. Panting desperately, Natasha awoke clenching the sheets with her fists. The cold sweat meant her back stuck to the sheet below. Hyperventilating, she stared at the skylight. Most nights she'd wait for the sweat to pass, refusing to move until she could close her eyes again and pretend nothing had happened. However, tonight was worse than usual. All she slept in was a tank top and some underwear and even in that she felt boiling, as if a fire was burning from within. She'd been back on the cool medical table in a dull, tiled where...shaking back the memory she got up, deciding staying here wasn't going to work tonight. Reaching into Bruce's wardrobe she pulled on an oversized hoodie. Creaking down the stairs, she still felt groggy. Wandering into the kitchen a shadow moved suddenly. Reaching for a gun and then the light switch, she enlightened the room to the view of Bruce in jeans and a t-shirt.

"Jesus Christ!" exclaimed the scientist. "How do you have a gun?"

"I brought it here," she explained before putting it down getting on top of a bookcase.

He considered asking how she got it through customs then realised he didn't want to know the answer.

"Nightmares?" Bruce questioned. She didn't answer so he moved to the kitchen.

Resting on the couch, she stared at his board. There was a beauty to it she could appreciate even if not all the aspects made sense.

"Tea?" Above her, Bruce stood holding two mugs.

She gladly welcomed the hot drink. Two sugars and milk- he always got it right. Instead of sitting down next to her, he gestured for her to follow him outside. Resting his mug on the railing, he pointed upwards.

"You see that," she followed his arm upwards to stare at the small bundle of stars.

Spewing out of his mouth came poetry in the form of astronomy. Her temperature returned to normal as she listened to him. Knowledge had an alarmingly soothing effect. Natasha had evoked the opposite reaction in him. He wouldn't mention the jumper, but was all too aware when he next wore it, there would be the intoxicating vanilla scent that accompanied the Russian. She hovered, as ever, on her tiptoes.

'A leftover habit from ballet?' he wondered.

Her gorgeous legs extended up to the hem of the jumper. Tea was sipped slowly. As she began to drift off, she swayed closer to Bruce. He wanted to discuss her plan; he'd thought of little else the past fortnight. Now wasn't the time though.

"Go back to bed," he ordered eventually when his desire to kiss her began to feel overwhelming. Tired, she tried to look surprised by his command. "You said you liked it when I took control. Go back to bed. If you can't sleep I'll be down here."

It was a promise. Natasha didn't like those; they were made almost as easily as they were broken. However, it was comforting nevertheless. Returning to bed she kept on Bruce's jumper and rolled up to face the skylight.

He was there for her whenever the nightmares struck. No longer did she have to lie awake alone because downstairs he was there with a cup of time and that gentle voice. Never admitting to the nightmares, sometimes she never went to bed at all. It was easy for them, being together like this. The professional in her hated his avoidance of discussing the Other Guy. However, she had to remember she was a guest and relied entirely on his good will towards her, which she was pretty sure was fast fading.

As the nightmares continued, Natasha found herself more often than not going downstairs to find Bruce. At the whiteboard, he'd catch her in the corner of his eye hovering by the door. Putting down the marker he'd set out to make tea and she knew she was welcome. Some nights it was astronomy or other areas of science. Then occasionally it was simpler.

"I think I like The Smiths," he began absentmindedly, "because my Mum played them all the time I was growing up."

"Country music has stories in its lyrics and they're always simple. No superheroes or aliens, just people falling in and out of love," she responded.

He examined her on the other end of the couch. Her grip on the mug was firm, her features soft and sleepy.

"At least it's not that rock stuff Tony likes," Bruce compromised, speaking to distract his mind from the curve of her neck.

Half sigh, half giggle escaped her. Indulging himself, he kept his eyes on her. Knees close to herself she looked delicate, oh he knew how wrong that was. She was strong, unlike anybody he's ever met before. Calm for Bruce was not a possibility around her. However for the Other Guy it might be.

Interruptions was something she hated and he knew it, but the words might not come out at any other time. So in the middle of a rant against his favourite book he said, "music keeps me calm. If we're going to try your plan I think we should start there."

A gentle smile crossed her face. Slowly she nodded and said, "okay."

"Okay," the echo came and then quiet fell.

 **Honestly, a review right now would mean the world to me. Even if you hate it. Have a great day xx**


	7. Chapter 7

**I can't express how unbelievable you all are- thank you for all the support. It massively helped and things are looking up. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, special mention to R. 2015 who's suggestion has been fulfilled in this chapter which is much longer than anything I've written before. So this is how the Lullaby forms and it's all a bit steamy and close and most of all passionate which I feel is true of the Lullaby. Hope you like it :)**

Aims are accomplished through effective action. Natasha had been taught that and it was something she stuck by. If this plan was going to work, Bruce and her were needed to cooperate. The kitchen, they both agreed, was much better without the smell of burnt toast. Instead there was an aroma of scrambled eggs and bacon. Handing her a plate, legs dangling off the countertop, he leaned back against the sink.

"So I assume you've got a plan?" he began.

"Of course. But this won't work if you're not trying."

Pulling a folded piece of paper, Bruce's calloused hands unfurled it slowly.

"The Smiths, classical music, cooking...that's as far as I got regarding things that keep me calm."

"Good work," slipping easily back into being his colleague. "We need to tell the Other Guy everything is okay like a signal that we need Banner back. Bring your heart rate down, calm the anger, remind you of the goofy dork in you."

He exhaled with a smile.

"I've got some conditions."

"Oh," she said with a small smile and a raised eyebrow.

"No...practical trials until we have a proper idea of what we're doing. And we have to let Tony know so he can have Veronica prepped-"

"Veronica?"

"It's a cage that Tony controls that can stop the Other Guy," Bruce explained in stammers.

"A safety net," she concluded. "Let's get started then."

He did the dishes while she cleared the living room. Ideal location would be outside, sadly the weather had not been informed of their plans. Bruce wandered aimlessly into the now open room. Placing the laptop on the floor Natasha turned up the music.

"Sing me to sleep," the Smiths bled into the room.

In the middle of the room, they stood about a metre away.

"Okay, deep breathing and focus on the music-"

"I'm already calm," he reminded her.

"Cooperate," she smiled stubbornly at him. "I don't think you want me to make you mad."

"Let's no..." his words fell off as her feet moved forward. Fingers gently trailed up and down the side of his shirt. Linking them in his belt loops, Natasha stretched her feet up. Shorter than him, with her head tilted down, her nose then lips brush the collar of his t-shirt that hid under the blue checked shirt above. "What are you?" the whisper was no more a breath as Bruce swallowed deeply attempting to control himself.

"Trying to make you..." not calm, excited, nervous.

Curling her fingers in the curls at the back of his neck, she looked up. Through his glasses she could see, his chocolate eyes focused entirely on her lips. Somewhere between her taking the final step towards him and the feeling of his hands gripping her waist, she lost sight of her aim. This wasn't really her plan. He shivered at the feel on her breath on his neck. Knocking into his knee with hers, she pulled herself back to the room. Moving away, she spoke softly.

"Keep your eyes closed," instructions were slow, the tone calming. "Focus on the music."

One bar of the song fixed in his head. Piano notes replayed. Tap tap tap tap. Relaxation began in his fingers before running up his arms. She could see his shoulders untense.

He's beautiful, the thought came to her as quickly as it left.

"In through your nose. Out your mouth," she carried on.

He felt the ghost of her fading away and the effect she evoked leaving also. Opening his eyes, she was there and dare he say looking a little worried.

"How was that?" she asked as he continued to regulate his breathing.

"Good," he said then worried he sounded too enthusiastic, "yeah it was calm I guess. If umm..." Get a grip Banner, he scathed himself. "If we use that idea on the Other Guy I don't think the music will work as well. Noise it's all sort of a mess when he's around."

Good feedback. Professionally she wanted to carry on but could see even just one attempt had worn him out. For the first time, she felt guilty for using her body as a tool, as a weapon. Moving to the kitchen, she took a deep breath in the privacy away from him. Coiling in the pit of her stomach an unwanted pressure the doctor was to blame for.

Get yourself together, she told herself.

"Nat?" his voice came from behind her.

"Tea?" she asked in response.

"Er yeah," he nodded while she filled the kettle.

Listening to the kettle boil, they both felt like nothing has ever taken longer. With each a mug of tea they hurried off to their respective areas of the house. Quickly the bedroom reflected her with a mixture of their clothes on the floor. Placing the mug on the bedside table that was cluttered with books, she fell onto the bed. With her head in a pillow she groaned. That...heat within her wasn't lying. Her body was betraying the thoughts she wasn't willing to even consider.

* * *

Maybe it was the overdose of tea she was receiving with Bruce, Natasha wasn't sure but the nightmares were becoming more infrequent. It wasn't a bad dream that woke her that night but a groan. Sitting up, she heard the unmistakeable sound of a pained moan. Leaping from the bed, she ran downstairs. Thrashing against the sofa, the scientist looked like he was close to screaming.

"Bruce," she gently woke him.

A cold sweat covered his skin that had a tinge of green. This was dangerous.

"Bruce."

His eyelids snapped open.

"You're okay, it's all okay," she breathed slowly. "In through your nose, out through your mouth."

Against his rib cage his heart refused to slow down. In his head, the Other Guy was growing angrier and flowing into his thoughts like poison. The sheet currently covering him was damp so she pushed it away. Bruce was lying on his side in nothing but some boxers. She slung his jumper she was currently wearing around him. She tried to get up from her perched position on her knees below him on the carpet, but he stopped her. Firmly he gripped her wrist. Looking at him she could see the pure fear across his face.

Whispering she promised, "it's okay."

She placed her hand on his and pulled him back. As he sat up, she reshuffled now kneeling in front of him as he sat cross legged on the couch. Lifting up her hand, she kept her eyes firmly on his. Mirroring her, he raised his hand to her height. Only as he did so did she notice how much he was shaking.

"Close your eyes and focus on your breathing."

He didn't move. As if to make him trust her, she placed her finger tips against his. His eyelids fluttered close. Moving back she reached for the laptop. She pushed the headphones over Bruce before returning her hand to gently graze his. With closed eyes he sat trying to slow his breathing. She focused on his features, the tightness of his lips. His surprisingly slender fingers pulled away from hers before slowly tapping out the rhythm on her palm. When he slowed she repeated the tune to him. Even in the dark, she could see the outline of his chest hair. Hands feeling heavy he dropped them. She traced a line from his wrist downwards. As she pulled away, a jitter passed through Bruce's hand. The green hue faded. Opening his eyes, she knew the scientist was back in control. Pushing down the headphones, she could see the embarrassment on his face.

"I'll go make tea," a small smile promised.

While she went to the kitchen, he hung his head in his hands; partly out of shame but also out of pure exhaustion. Returning with two mugs of tea and a towel, she perched on the edge of the coffee table opposite him. Patting his forehead, she tried to get rid of the sweat.

"I've got it," she promised.

You never let a partner see how weak they are. They were a team and it was her job to keep him as strong as possible. His knee was still shaking. Only in a black t-shirt and some underwear, they were both so aware of how little each of them were wearing. For the sake of his heart rate, Bruce chose not to focus on that but rather the warmth of the tea. Leaving again she retrieved some leggings for her and some pyjama trousers she found in his cupboard. As she switched on the light his eyes stung slightly from the change. Across the room she tossed him the. trousers. Clearing away the sheet and the towel, she rested adjacent to him on the couch.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, eyes focused on the half empty mug, he refused to look up at the redhead.

"We all have nightmares, you look after me during mine," the admission was gentle and felt relieving.

Quietly they sat for a few hours saying nothing just enjoying the warmth radiating off their companion. Over the green rolling hills, came the sun, first pink then orange. It wasn't his first nightmare and it wouldn't be his last, but waking up to see her there made him think he may be able to handle them.

* * *

A 'practical trial', as Bruce had called it, was due. The rhythm and feeling of her hand was actively having a relaxing feeling. Breathing techniques were working. It'd be a lie to say she hadn't pushed for this, believing the only way any of this work would actually mean anything would be seeing how the Other Guy reacted. Tony was all for letting out the Green Giant and was prepped with Veronica.

"I don't know about this," Bruce began as he drove.

"You know the area and you know there's no one around for miles. Also it's raining, who is going to be hanging round a field in the middle of nowhere? Trust in the plan."

Despite her efforts he was beyond nervous. Pulling into the field, he

yanked the stuff handbrake up. Maybe if he didn't move she'd drop this ridiculous plan.

"Come on-"

"What if I hurt you?" his voice desperate and scared.

Undoing her seatbelt she twisted to at least partially face him. "First," she began, "don't interrupt me. Honestly makes me want to kill you." Her honesty calmed him slightly. "Secondly, we've gone through this and I think it'll work. I'll be on the phone with Stark and you know that if there was a party going on without him he'd show up like lightning." Sighing, she reminded him, "if this is ever going to work you have to try and have faith."

Work Natasha was surprisingly motivational. A nod came and she leaped out of the car soon to be followed by the less enthusiastic Bruce. Striding out into the field until Scarlett's red paintwork was no more than a dot, Natasha phoned Bruce.

"Hey Russia," his 'pet name' changed between conversations.

"Stark, you ready?" To the point.

"Yep." A moment of silence before Tony asked, quietly, "how is he?"

"Scared but he'll do it."

"Go get him then Red," Stark teased over the phone.

Turning to Bruce she smiled, "ready?"

The scientist nodded before stepping back from the spy. She waited for him to Hulk out before he sighed.

"This just isn't-"

Interruptions were okay if Nat was the the one interrupting. The gunshot surprised Bruce beyond belief and before he knew it the Other Guy had arrived. As if like a siren going off inside his head, the Green Giant screamed:

"BANNER DANGER! BANNER DANGER!"

Below, the Russian looked minute and weak- oh how untrue.

"Hey, hey," she intended to calm the Hulk.

An Earth shaking roar came the reply knocking Natasha to the floor.

"You okay?" Stark practically screeched down the phone.

"Fine," she replied.

The Other Guy was now creating craters in the field with his fists. Inside Banner was worried, screaming, dying with fear Natasha wasn't okay. As he swung round she was gone. Desperately, Bruce tried to control his breathing to no avail. Like a dog now off a leash, the Hulk was tearing through the grounds.

"Do you need Veronica?" Tony asked.

"No!" she was determined to try this plan.

Placing her mobile on the floor, before doing the same with her gun, she stepped towards the Other Guy. Green eyes turned to focus on her. Raising her hand she tried to search his irises for the chocolate of her dorky friend.

"Hey," it was barely a whisper.

"NO GUN. NO DANGER FOR BANNER," the Hulk thought.

Like a peace sign, she stood her hand raised stoic. His hand dwarfed hers. Slowly, gently but still in time, she tapped the rhythm out on the emerald palm above. At her touch, the Hulk moved away defensively and growled.

"Hey, hey Big Guy, the danger is gone, the sun's getting real low, it's time give in, time to go home," the words flowed full of her hopefulness.

Extending his arm towards her she repeated the rhythm again. Dragging her slender digit down his wrist and moving back. Slow for a moment he simply stared at the Russian. Falling backwards, he collapsed, shrinking in pain. The pasty scientist lay face first in the grass. Natasha hurried back to the car in search of water and some trousers, before returning to Bruce. Heaving he couldn't believe what had happened.

"You okay?" the question was soft and concerned.

Shakily he pulled on the pants, Natasha averting her eyes from the embarrassed doctor.

"Hi," Bruce smiled. He was back and...that was all that mattered.

"Hi," the spy smiled in returned. It was like meeting for the first time; sitting in a field in the middle of nowhere, a breakthrough had occurred.

 **So what do you think? Comments and critiques are always welcome particularly on my writing skill. Thank you guys for everything :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello again and welcome to the magical world of chapter 8! Thank you all for the amazingly kind reviews and a special thank you to DAIRXOXO who got me off my butt and writing again. So this chapter as requested is more Nat based and also features Clint- yay! Hope you enjoy :)**

It had surprised Bruce how well the Lullaby had worked. At least more so than Natasha, who had an overwhelming amount of faith in him. Any of her requests for more trials were denied. That didn't seem to dampen her spirits or change the dynamic of the house. He would still find her in the kitchen spinning around to another terrible song. As if something in his eyes always gave it away, she would know the nights he feared he may have a nightmare. Those days neither would go to bed; drinking until the sun came up. Sometimes it felt like Natasha knew him better than he knew himself. Far better at least than he knew her.

"It's all on the internet you know?" Stark reminded him when the scientist relayed this problem. "Her history is there for you to read."

"If she wants to tell me about it, she will do," he remained steady.

Curiosity festered within him. Resting on the couch with a mug of tea on the couch, he grabbed one of the blank notebooks. The others were full of equations but this he would fill with something far more important: her.

 _What's your favourite colour?_

The question was simple but it was something he wanted to know. Leaving a space below where one day he would write the answer, Bruce continued. Some were deep, others superficial.

 _Questions for Nat_

He wrote in his rough script at the opening page. Unsure if he'd ever get answers, he took comfort in the possibility he might.

* * *

"I'm leaving."

The announcement was blunt. Slinging a black duffel bag on the floor, Natasha tried to read the scientist eating toast in the kitchen. Like some love sick teenager, she wanted to see him worry or care or something.

"It's a mission I mean," she clarified.

"Do you need a drive somewhere?"

"Please, but I have to get going."

He moved towards her. Passing over a plate he requested, "eat this before you go. I'll pull something on."

Missions were a part of her job and she'd up and left plenty of people before. However, she never wanted them to miss her as much as she hoped Bruce would. The meeting point was Charles De Galle airport in Paris. No doubt Clint would get there first as punctuality tended to be his thing. She nibbled absentmindedly on the buttered toast. He lifted the bag off the floor and took it to the car.

"You can just take me to Falkirk station," she told him.

"I can drive you to Glasgow airport if that's where your heading," Bruce assuring her it wasn't an issue.

She nodded listening the the car growl down the road. "In a pick up truck that roared like a lion," she sung under her breath. She was going to miss the car, or Scarlet as Bruce affectionately called it.

"What?" he asked in reference to the sweet hum.

"Lines from a song," she told him. "I'll play for you when I get back."

Happy at the prospect of her returning, he rested back into his seat. The drive was quiet, apart from the occasional comment about his supposedly bad driving- not appreciated by Bruce. He knew better than to ask details of the mission. Pulling into the drop off zone, he killed the engine. They both waited for the other to say something before then talking over each other when they tried causing a calming giggle.

"Come back in one piece, okay?" That was all he asked.

Squeezing his hand, she got out of the car and walked into the airport. Refusing herself the possibility of looking back, she didn't see him wait. He sat making sure she left safe, assuring himself she wasn't turning back to tell him anything else.

A private plane took her to London, where she took a commercial jet across the Channel to Paris. Reaching into her bag, she located Bruce's copy of The Fault In Our Stars. Not stolen, just borrowed without asking. It was an unexpected find in his house but something compelled her to read it. Only a few hours after leaving, she found herself craving those late night chats about books on the terrace with glasses of wine. Pushing him into a box somewhere in her mind, she tried to focus on the mission. Member of the French Parliament supposedly running an illegal drug ring in Paris. Her job was pretty usual: seduce him at a fancy dinner party and get everything she could off him before letting agents arrest him.

Under the arrivals board, stood Clint, inconspicuous in black. He didn't look anxious because no good spy ever would, but he was vigilant.

"Hey sugar," the codename he used matched her fears. Planting a kiss on her cheek, he whispered, "nine o clock, blue jacket, fedora."

Moving away she shook her hair out giving her a chance to look at the possible threat Clint had identified.

"Come on babe, let's go somewhere private," she smiled standing pressed against him, her fingers playing with the zipper of his leather jacket.

 _Bruce's after shave smells different, less oaky._ The thought was easy enough to ignore in the moment but she couldn't forget it.

Fingers intertwined with hers and she became distracted by following Clint outside. The unmarked black sedan blended in with the other cars in the French airport lot.

"I'm driving," the demand was crisp and what he had expected.

"Just don't wreck it." She'd become so used to the female pronoun used to refer to a car, 'it' sounded cold. "And drive on the right side of the road," Clint requested in return, handing her the keys as they loaded luggage into the boot.

"Which is?" she joked with him.

Natasha drove way too fast for Clint's liking.

"I have the files in my bag. This parliament celebration dinner slash fundraiser on Friday is where we're heading. Very exclusive so Fury could only get me and you in so no backup," he explained.

"Like Budapest," she took every opportunity to mention that mission.

"The hotel isn't far," he continued as if she'd said nothing, "there should be supplies there."

In their line of work, 'supplies' was a loose term used by Fury. Objects supposedly to keep them safe, sometimes landing them into even more hot water.

The double bedded room was nice. High up in the four star hotel, the agents looked just like another married couple in need of a holiday.

"I'm gonna hit the shower," he said before disappearing into the bathroom.

Opening her bag she faced the oversized grey hoodie she had stolen from Bruce. Pulling it round herself she settled onto the bed and began reading about the mark. Typical, was all she could think to describe him. It didn't shock her that the first mission back Fury had assigned her to was simple. Opening the black suitcase left for them by the director, she examined their 'supplies'. Indiscreet handguns, a black cocktail dress- for her not Clint- and a box of platinum hair dye. Oh how she wished that was for Clint. The target likes blondes apparently.

"That's new?" her companion asked reappearing from the bathroom wrapped in a towel. "The jumper I mean."

"It's mine," she lied.

Anyone else would not know that wasn't the truth, except Clint. "You better take it off, don't think the mark will like you smelling like another guy," he suggested.

"Clearly haven't done your reading Barton. This guy would love to imagine he'd stolen away someone else's property," she contradicted him, unwilling to remove the warm piece of clothing.

"Who's is it?"

"No one's."

He was slightly put out by her lack of communication. It wasn't unlike her but he'd, naively possibly, thought they could share these kinds of personal truths. No matter though, Laura would get it out of her next time Natasha came up to the farm.

"What do you want to do for the next day and a half?" he asked, moving away from that knot of home sickness rapidly building in his stomach.

Noncommittally, she shrugged. Honestly, she wanted to read his books, wear his jumper and listen to his music. Bruce definitely would not be missing her music.

Peering at the June date on the French paper in the room, Nat asked, "what are you guys doing for your anniversary?"

Dropping his head to his now clothes chest, Clint commented, "shit."

"So we're going shopping then?" she teased her partner.

"Please," the beg was laboured with annoyance. "If we get back Saturday, I'll have three days so I can hopefully find someone willing to babysit the kids so we can have a night together."

Passing into the bathroom while Clint scolded himself, Natasha stared at her tired face. A miniscule smile came to her as she considered Bruce's comments on her hair when they'd met again. She decided the dye could be done later, for now she'd remain a dark red. Hairband around her wrist she pulled her hair up into a ponytail. Her face clean of make up and wrapped in Bruce's jumper was an image she hadn't ever expected.

This is work, a reminder came.

Shrugging off the hoodie she returned with a natural coverage and a pair of large sunglasses. Too often had Clint and her pretended to be a couple, she was far too aware of this scenario.

"Come on then," she said to her companion.

Clint and Laura were wonderful together and Natasha would always help if they needed it. He desperately needed it now.

"She won't want clothes; she'd never wear anything as nice as that," pointing to a designer dress in a passing window, "and she'd complain I spent too much."

Natasha was only part listening, part comparing the feel of Clint's hand to Bruce's.

"She has a charm bracelet right?" the thought hitting her suddenly.

"Yeah I got it for her a couple years back, she wears it a lot," Clint answered.

"Get her a charm; maybe something Paris themed or a heart or…what?" she questioned the surprised look of her companion.

"Just never seen you so into romance," he commented before teasing, "special man in your life?"

"No," the answer quick.

"Woman?" he fished hopefully.

"Why don't we focus on you keeping your wife before we try finding one for me," she joked in an attempt to divert his attention.

Her idea was good, he had to admit. In a bohemian jewellery shop, he found a silver rose that Laura would love. Buying it, he also decided that, if a sitter could be found, he'd take her dancing.

Curiosity killed the cat, the phrase taunted him.

Knowing how long it had taken to open her open, Clint wasn't willing to jeopardise the relationship with Natasha for the sake of learning if she had someone romantic in her life. No matter though, because Laura could probably worm it out of next time a visit to the farm came about.

Back to the hotel room, Clint was tapping away furiously at a laptop keyboard. Rolling onto her side she opened the tattered cover of John Green's novel. Just over seven hundred miles, Bruce was listening to Lady Antebellum, trying to forget her while listening to the music that made him miss her even more.

 **Just a few quick things: the notebook of questions will reappear- something I am looking forward to writing. The song she quotes in the car is Cuckoo by Lissie- it's great. At the end he is listening to a country band called Lady Antebellum who I would unreservedly recommend to everyone.**

 **Next chapter is the mission.**

 **Please tell me what you think :) Have a great day**


	9. Chapter 9

**My rather terrible attempt to write a mission. Hope you like it :)**

Natasha did not like being platinum blonde. She could pull it off because she could with basically anything. One side of her now yellow locks were pinned down while the other flowed down gracefully. It took her a good twenty minutes to finish her make up. A lacy black bodice stopped below her ribs before breaking out into a layered skirt. It was a nice dress but it made her feel young. Undecided whether she liked that she required Clint's help with the back zip. Black tie was always flattering; Laura would love to see Clint wear it more. The strappy heels must have been at least 5 inches. Standing in front of the mirror, she admired her recently shaved, bare legs that seemed to go on forever.

"Whoever your mystery partner is," Clint teased, "they'd die if they saw you now."

Glaring outwardly, inside she fluttered, wishing Bruce could see her like this but more hoping one day she'd get to see him like Clint was now.

"There's a car downstairs," Clint said.

Pulling herself back to the world of work, Natasha grabbed her matching clutch off the bed and followed him out of the room. The state opening of French Parliament was an excuse for Paris's elite to join together with champagne and caviar. The pair of agents looked like anyone else, the marble foyer of the museum heavy under the weight of the people. Only one other SHIELD agent was able to sneak in as part of the wait staff, the others stationed around the city awaiting information. The aim was for Natasha to seduce the mark, follow him to his hotel and then steal information before letting other agents arrest him.

"Henri Tammon the third," Clint snorted, "will probably be sitting at the bar."

"Almost certainly," she agreed.

Scanning the area for the mark, she also noted the exits and other guests- no one stood out as a threat. A former javelin thrower, the mark stood at 6 foot three and still seemed to be in good shape.

"I have eyes on him," she told Clint, her arm linked in his.

"Go over and buy a drink, don't say much just make sure he notices." Normally orders were not something that flew well with Natasha but Clint was a professional and knew this game far too well.

The target didn't want someone tough or forthright, but rather someone timid like another man's pet he could snatch. Natasha hated men like that. Tilting her head down and sliding past people, as opposed to her usual confident glide, she found herself at the marble countertop.

"Martini?" the voice she used sounded unlike the strength she knew she had that it made her insides turn.

The teenage looking bartender began making the cocktail. Tammon's eyes trailed up and down her legs, her forearms resting on the cool countertop.

"If it weren't an open bar, I'd be buying you that drink."

His words made her sure this was going to work. Smiling sweetly, she finally could see his whole face; full, chiselled chin, turquoise irises and an unsettling grin.

"Who would I be thanking in that case?" she asked stepping towards him, clicking in her heels.

Now she understood why he sat here, away from the band he could actually hear whoever his companion may be and he also had an expansive view of the room. In his large hand, he cupped her hip bone, with no question or hesitation. Desperately she wanted to wriggle away from his slimy grip.

"Henri," he told her, avoiding his last name or anything else personal. "And what about you beautiful?"

"Alice." The lie rolled fluidly off her tongue.

"American?" he asked.

Clearly her fake accent had fooled him. She nodded, biting her lip innocently.

"So what you doing hanging out here?" she asked.

Then he began to discuss his role in parliament. Nothing the file hadn't told her already. Following his facial features, she saw when he was beginning to lose focus in her. Fingers traced his chest, lightly getting tangled in his tie. His smirk grew as he continued to speak before asking, "why are you here?"

"My boyfriend is a diplomatic translator."

Eyebrows raised as Tammon's interest piqued.

"Wouldn't you rather be with him?" her companion asked as he continued to sip scotch.

"Would you rather I was over there or here?" As the final word fell from her lips she took a final step forward, his knees either side of her body, her waist pressed against the bar stool.

Fingers lacing on her lower back, he whispered, "I'd rather have you in my hotel room."

A school girl giggle erupted quietly from her, just like she knew he wanted.

"Which hotel would that be?"

"La Tremoille, penthouse suite," he bragged.

"My boyfriend would never take me anywhere like that."

"Get rid of him and meet me out front, I'll have a car."

She wandered back to Clint, very aware of Tammon's eyes on her back. Taking Clint's hand, she pulled him behind a lavishly decorated pillar.

"That took you an hour," Clint complained, slightly worried.

Honestly she hadn't realised it had taken that long.

"La Tremoille, penthouse suite," she parroted Tammon from a few moments ago. "Perfect English thankfully. Complete slime ball. I'll let you know when the time is right. Be there."

With that she pushed back away from him and through the entrance. At the bottom of the stone steps, he stood in front a black limo waiting for her. It was the image of tacky. As the car pulled off, he offered her a glass champagne. Fearing it would be spiked she had to think fast.

"I'd rather you do something else with your mouth." Her mind's eyes rolled at the awfulness of that line.

Before he could comment, her lips were pressed against his, a palm on his cheek. Sickened slightly she pushed back all thoughts about this other than the mission. Once arrived at the hotel he lead her up to the room. Ostentatious and large, he clearly used it to impress people.

"Doesn't feel like somewhere a lowly politician could afford?" she asked, the investigation beginning.

"Well I have a side business."

"Oh yeah?" She smirked, turning to face him forced to crane her neck up to see his eyes. "Anything I'd be interested in?"

"Why don't you come and look?" he suggested, sliding his fingers round hers.

 _Bruce's hands are softer._ No, she wouldn't bring him into her thoughts here, never here.

Behind a fake wall (of course he had a fake wall) was exactly what she needed. White powder lined the wall with brief cases she presumed filled with money or more drugs. It still amazed her how easy some marks would just open up to her, for the pure hope of a quick fuck. He reached past her for a small bag with a white pill she presumed was E.

"Wanna have some fun?" Something evil in his eyes glinted that make her wanted to cause him even more pain.

Taking the package from him, she went to the bathroom asking for a minute. She messaged Clint with her coordinates and a message along the lines of but in nicer terms of: "get the fuck here now." Leaning against the basin, she breathed in and out. The break had laid a little out of practice, but it was more than that- not that she'd say anything. Checking her phone; full signal, no messages. Cursing Barton under her breath she only had a moment or so to reappear. Knowing she would have to do something to distract Tammon from her elongated absence, she pulled off the dress and heels. Standing in front of the mirror she examined her black bra and matching hipster underwear. Hiding the pill under her clothes she stepped out of the clean, marble room. Turning at the sound, he licked his lips hungrily. Slowly, lazily, she stepped towards him on her tiptoes. He scooped her up like she was no more than a feather and threw her to the bed. A fake, moaning laugh escaped as he began to climb her body. Kisses became deeper and she needed to kill more time before Clint arrived.

"Kiss my neck," she begged. "Bite me. Let my boring boyfriend know what a real man does."

Across her collarbone and neck his lips and teeth marked her. Soon enough he went down to her thighs.

'Where are you Clint?' she worried.

Just as the thought came to her, she heard shuffling outside the door. Not waiting for them to barge in, Natasha needed this scumbag off her. Her free leg pushed him bag directly in the ribs. Pent up rage came out in force, feeling his ribs crack under her foot. Before he could say anything her knee collided with his nose. The Swat team was around her soon with Clint there as well. As soon as she worried about her lack of clothing he stuck his arm out, holding a pair of denim shorts and a black tank top. Pulling them on she went back to the bathroom, unable to look at Tammon any longer. Her partner followed, hanging in the doorway as she picked up her dress and heels.

"He gave me this," she said chucking him the bag still containing the pill.

Her mood was sour, done with scum life like Tammon. The redness in her hickeys was increasing by the second. Wiping away her make up she wish she could do the same for the marks his lips had made. Pulling up her hair with a band Clint had passed her- he was very prepared. Following Clint downstairs and out of the hotel, she took the passenger seat on the completely unmarked car. At her feet were her duffel bag and a jacket she didn't recognise.

"Are we not heading back to the hotel?" she asked, wondering why he had packed her stuff up.

"Nope, I'm taking you to the airport. In the bag is your passport and a plane ticket back to Glasgow- I looked at your travel documents from the journey here," he explained. "I'm sticking round for a day or so to finish everything but you did good work and you can deny all you like but there's someone out there waiting for you to come home."Home. That little house in Garelochhead had become her home, at least for now. "The jacket is one of Laura's cause you'll freeze if you just wear that hoodie. She won't mind."

She smiled for the first time since this mission had begun and said, "thank you."

The black leather jacket was nice and she made a mental note to return it to Laura next time they met if not sooner. Bruce's name nearly fell of her lips, but she refrained keeping her scientist secret for a little longer.

"That book made Laura cry, just warning you," Clint added as the airport drew nearer.

"Go through my stuff again Barton and you'll end up like Tammon."

He laughed and Natasha eased at the familiar noise. It had only been three days since she'd left but it would be nice to be back.

"Stay safe," he made her promise. "And come by soon."

Reaching across she hugged him tightly before hurrying to the gate with childish excitement that she chastised herself for. Sleeping for most of the plane, she realised upon arriving at Glasgow Airport that it was early morning and she was in no easy reach of getting back. A dark haired cabbie with chocolate skin was lingering in the taxi rank.

"Garelochhead," she requested. "I know it's far but I'll pay you everything."

Out of sheer boredom she supposed, he agreed beginning the 30 mile journey in the dark. The usually 45 minute journey was barely a half hour in the early hours. She handed him a bundle of notes and her sincerest thanks grateful to be home. Front door unlocked, she snuck in dropping her bag in the hallway. In the time she'd been away, Bruce had returned from the couch to his own bed the nightmares at bay currently. Pulling off her heels she lay down on the bed. The shift in weight woke the light sleeper Bruce.

"Nat?" he grumbled quietly. "You're back? You're blonde?" She chuckled at the questions. "Am I dreaming?"

"Do you dream about me a lot?" she asked in return.

That woke him up. He was amazed at how bright her emerald eyes looked in the early morning haze.

"The target liked blondes," she admitted, hoping it would alleviate some of his awkwardness.

Shrugging off the jacket he went to leave the bed. "Don't," she stopped him. Unsure of what to do but not wanting to deny himself this moment. Laying back down on his shoulder they now faced each other with a reasonable distance between them to still remain just friends.

"You're blonde," he repeated again, feeling like an idiot.

"I look better than he does at least. He's got a broken nose and some cracked ribs at least," she smirked, pride running through her veins.

"Go you," he continued the whispered conversation, as if neither of them were prepared to hear life at full volume right now. "But he's got terrible taste if he thinks blonde suits you better then red."

Unsure of an actual vocal response she merely pulled the quilt further up and as a result closer to Bruce.

"Good night Bruce," the whisper came after moments of silence.

"Night Natasha."

Quietly she drifted off but he kept his eyes open listening like he was making sure she was still breathing, that all of this was actually real. Soon his eyelids became heavy and he dozed off too, just as his neighbours began to rise.

 **Would really love some comments right now, might be away for a bit due to family things. Have a great day xx**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you, as ever, for your incredible, continued support. My life is a little bit up and down at the moment which is why this is so late. I really hope you like it :) May get a little OOC but I think alcohol does that to us all :P I have an idea of where this may lead but trying to keep it relatively in line with AoU. I love you guys so much xx**

It was closer to lunch than breakfast when Bruce finally woke. Unplagued by nightmares he felt refreshed, for once. During the night, he had turned onto his back, his usual sleeping position, but now he rolled back onto his shoulder to look at his companion. Curled inwards slightly, Natasha remained asleep, exhausted from the mission, he guessed. The blonde hair was unnaturally bright. Now, bathed in the morning sun, he could see her properly. Across her collarbone and neck were red marks fast turning to blacky-blue puddles. A knot of anger and jealousy began to build in his chest causing a heavy ache. Clenching his jaw and closing his eyes, he tried to diffuse that fast fizzling rage. Then a soft palm came to rest of his knuckle that lay between their two bodies.

"Hey," she whispered. "It's okay."

How did she do that? When had she learnt to read him so well that she knew exactly what he needed?

He was scared to open his eyes, to see hers, to once again view those revealing marks. Her thumb began to draw calming circles against the back of his hand. Relaxing again, he allowed the tension to leave his face, drain from his body. Forcing open his eyelids he stared at her. Her hazel eyes held nothing but worry for him.

"They'll fade," she promised.

The metaphoric and literal green eyed monster within began to duck its head. Turning his palm upwards, Bruce was able to intertwine his fingers with the Russian redhead's, unsure of where his bravery was coming from. Possibly, his jealous energy was dissipating but still demanded to be felt somehow. Her hands were smooth. Natasha's eyes focused wholly on the surprisingly spectacle in front of her: Bruce's hand wrapped round hers. In the silence they lay there, just appreciating each other's warmth.

"I think you deserve breakfast in bed," Bruce finally said, after hearing her stomach grumble quietly beneath the sheets.

Smiling her approval, she watched as the plaid trouser and white t-shirt covered doctor padded his way out of the room. Rolling onto her back, she reached for her jacket where her phone lay. Listening to the ringing tone, she began to pace around the room.

"Agent Romanoff." Unwilling to correct her boss, she let Fury call her as he'd always known her.

"Barton been in contact with you?" she asked.

"Yes, well done." He couldn't see her shrug off the praise. "Are you safe now?"

"Definitely," she smiled.

"You'll need to fill in some paperwork."

"I don't work for you anymore," she teased. "Do I still have to fill in paperwork to please a dead man?"

"Well maybe I've got something to bribe you with."

"Oh yeah?" her eyebrows rose.

"The commission has done a U-turn. Come to the conclusion that the work you've done with the Avengers outweighs your previous actions. Realised you're much better to them as their soldier rather than a threat. You're free to live in the USA, with a few conditions." She'd stopped listening when Bruce appeared again. Pressing a finger to her lips, he got the message. "Hill, Barton and Rogers could always use your help. I know Stark would be happy to see you," Fury chuckled while she remained dead silent. "So what do you say Romanoff?"

"I'll get back to you," she promised before hanging up.

Motion less, Bruce stood quietly in the doorway holding a tray.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, just Clint," she lied.

Resting on the bed, they sat with the tray between each other with crossed legs. Before her was a large plate of pancakes and bacon with two mugs of coffee. Unwilling to mention the possibility of her leaving, she found herself at a loss of what to say.

"I once passed out on a first date," the sudden interjection almost startling her as if she'd forgotten he was sitting there.

"What?" she laughed quietly, realising the absurdity of what he'd said.

"Well I tried to be a vegan-"

"Never a good start," she grinned before picking up a piece of bacon with her fingers.

"No it really wasn't good. So I was in university and I was forever forgetting to eat anyway and now I couldn't eat a load more food. I go about my week and it gets to Friday night and I've been set up on this blind date and we go ice skating cause it's Christmas. Like ten minutes in I start feeling really light headed and weird. She can talk her head off so she hasn't noticed anything wrong," here Nat chuckled and Bruce looked up in awe at her. Continuing he said, "then my vision got really blurry and I just passed out on the ice. When I come to I'm in a back of a fricking ambulance and my date is still there looking really really worried. My head is in a brace and I can barely speak because of it but I try and say 'what happened?' So the paramedic tells me I've cut open my chin and my blood sugar levels are really low. And he's like 'when did you last eat?' and I'm trying to think and I genuinely look at him and I'm like 'I have no clue.'" The image of Bruce in a head brace desperately trying to remember when he last ate, has Natasha throwing her head back laughing. "And he gives me a chocolate bar and I refuse cause I'm a vegan. Then he says 'eat the damn chocolate' and I'm not gonna say no cause this guy is massive. So I end up in the hospital getting my chin stitched back together. My roommates actually died laughing when they saw me. I've sworn off veganism since," he smiled concluding the story. "Suffice to say there was no second date."

Laughing, she realised she had no desire to leave him, go away from this place and the man that were fast becoming her home. Later she sent a text to Fury, ensuring she was safe and doing worthwhile work but she didn't want to return to the USA anytime soon.

* * *

Life with Bruce seemed to range from the frankly weird to the pleasantly domestic. This lay somewhere in between. Tomorrow was Halloween and upon his suggestion they were going to carve pumpkins to make Jack-O-Lanterns, which meant they found themselves discussing which pumpkins would work best.

"Hello you two!" excitedly Sally, Caroline and Luca's mum called out to them.

She clutched at her shopping bags tightly.

"Hi there," Bruce smiled, Nat hanging behind. "How's your dad?"

"Better actually thanks. The kids are missing you two like crazy," she joked.

"Well we're always happy to babysit," Nat nodded her ascent with Bruce's statement.

"Why don't you come to Guy Fawkes night?" Their faces must have given away their complete lack of knowledge because Caroline continued, "it's a big party with fireworks. I must have one of the leaflets here." She offloaded some shopping onto Bruce at which the red head sniggered. Riffling through pockets she finally presented them with a crumpled piece of paper. "The whole village will be there and it's always a great night. We'd love you to come."

"Thank you."

They watched her exit the shop with her bags and presumably back to her car. Neither knew what the other thought about the invitation so they didn't speak of it, Bruce pushing it into his jean pocket and turned back to the concerning issue of which pumpkins they would buy.

As they loaded the car, Natasha asked, slightly embarrassed by her ignorance, "what is Guy Fawkes night?"

Stepping back to close the tail gate of the truck, Bruce looked at her, "no idea."

Back home on the laptop, Natasha set to the Internet.

"Guy Fawkes night, otherwise known as Bonfire night, is a primarily British holiday commemorating the failed plot to kill King James I by blowing up the House of Parliament," she read before beginning to scan the page further while the dorky scientist made two mugs of coffee. "So yeah, basically 400 years ago some Catholics tried to blow up the king and failed so now people burn an effigy of a man who in fact was killed by hanging."

Bruce laughed at the concept and said, "sounds like a hoot."

"Nowadays people have bonfires, gather in large groups and just enjoy their evening," she added, eyes glazing over the brightly coloured leaflet.

Brown leaves bordered the details of Garelochead's Guy Fawkes Night which fell in exactly a week from now. He came to settle his forearms on the counter beside her. Quietly, almost unnoticeably, her breath hitched at the near contact with the scientist. Shaking it off, she turned the laptop to face him and passed him the leaflet, standing up and moving away.

"Want to go?" she asked, begging for him to say no.

Shrugging he replaced the piece of paper for his warm mug.

"I'm gonna go upstairs, call me down for dinner," she trailed off, leaving him feeling detached in the kitchen.

As he unpacked the shopping, his mind whirred over options. Fireworks and crowded people were not things Bruce wanted to be around. Obviously Natasha wouldn't want to go. Or...maybe? If he was going to go, he'd need her there, want her. Rudeness was never something he wanted to give off, and refusing Caroline's invite would definitely be impolite. He chuckled to himself knowing Natasha would laugh at him for thinking such Captain America like thoughts of kindness. Fireworks, mulled wine, a BBQ and good company, the advert stated. His time in Garelochhead and the people lovely. Why did he want to go to this? Unpacking he was left with three pumpkins; one much smaller than the other two, Natasha claiming she didn't want the tiny one to be left alone while others were bought for carving. He would carve a simple face with jagged teeth and she would probably, with all her training, be able to execute an exquisite, detailed design to out do any other jack-o-lantern in history. They'd picked up quite a bit of alcohol at the supermarket and he began mixing a coke and vodka for her. It was early evening and decided food was the way to get the spy back on side.

She could smell the cooking go on downstairs, practically feel him dancing across the kitchen in his socks. The idea of a social gathering made her feel nervous, but she wanted to go because he could feel him wanting to.

A gentle knock preceded the scientist's head appearing at the door.

"I bring food and wine," he smiled. "Well, vodka, not wine."

The tray of food was placed in front of her crossed legs, her mood massively improved.

"Even better," she teased.

They sat opposite with the trays providing a healthy distance between them. His mind still strayed though; wondering how easily he could push her back against the mattress, crawl up her gorgeous body and finally find out what those pink arches tasted like. He felt slightly uncomfortable thinking such things about someone who is essentially a colleague.

It took a lot to get Natasha tipsy, a hell of a lot more to get her drunk. However, with both of them desperate to get things off their minds, the alcohol just flowed, like money's entire purpose was to be poured down their throats. Sitting on the terrace, the pair found themselves laughing over Tony and Clint's stupidity over the years.

"I swear Tony only wears trousers cause Pepper makes him."

"Clint totally wouldn't wear pants if he didn't have to!"

She throws her head back laughing.

"You're beautiful."

The statement is sudden and not thought through. Immediately he wants to take it back as they find their way out of his mouth. Desperately he wants to reach out and force them back down to the locked box inside where he hid his feelings for the gorgeous red head. On somewhat shaky legs, she stood above the scientist in his seat. Tangling her fingers in his she pulled him up. Chests pressed against each other's they stood breathing against each other, her eyes on his lips.

"I didn't..." his gentle apology began.

"Just shut up," she told him. "Let's go to the bonfire together."

Holding her up by the hips, he looked down at the slightly tipsy woman who was fast becoming two people in his eyes. Fuzzy headed, they stood there until she pushed back. In so many ways she hated her body, at this point she loathed the fact her organs could so quickly diffuse the effects of alcohol. She couldn't deny that fuzzy, dizzy feeling all over wasn't caused by some chemical reaction due to too much vodka but instead the dorky man who was holding her so close. She needed to get away from this, dangerous situations such as these ought to be avoided, right?

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Final words hung there while he stood trying to clarify if that really happened. She ignited all of his senses, her smell lingering in his nostrils long after she was gone. He could bound up the stairs and open the room to her bedroom, show her how he felt instead of fumbling through clumsily phrased words. Alcohol made him brave but also sluggish and he was thankful his body instead crashed onto the sofa before he revealed how he really felt.

 **I've always though Guy Fawkes was a really odd concept but it's always been a really happy memory for me, so the next chapter concerns this very important holiday :P**

 **I really want to know what you think so review or abuse as per your own inclination. Just make sure you go and have a great day :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**It has been too damn long. School restarting has been a massive blow to my writing and I am going to make a huge effort to write more frequently. Thank you for everyone who has stuck with me xx I hope you like this chapter**

Groaning, Bruce tried sitting up on the sofa. His body ached. Feeling like a university student, full of regret from poor decisions, he was in need of coffee. Natasha had beaten him to the punch standing in the kitchen already dressed and probably back from a run.

"Hey, how's the head?" Her teasing was not appreciated, but the freshly brewed mug she handed him was.

His mumbled grunt of a reply made her laugh a little, entertained by watching a brilliant man become a inarticulate twit. Envious, he looked at her: refreshed and in no way effected by last night.

"Do you remember last night?" she asked.

Fear pierced Bruce as he worried he said something more than he already wished he hadn't.

"Err yeah I think so," he replied nervously.

"So you still want to go to the Bonfire thing?"

Her eyes looked unusually nervous, but more than anything she deserved the truth and he'd uphold that.

"Yeah, I don't really know why," he smiled slightly, "but it seems like a celebration of a place I've really loved being able to call home." Terrible at gauging her reaction he decided simply to ask, "do you want to go?"

"I want you to be happy. Also if you go alone it'll draw suspicion since I'm pretty sure people think we're a couple so I'll come." It was a compromise. While she didn't want to go, she knew he did and so she would accompany.

 _This feels like being in a couple_ , she thought suddenly. She gained nothing from this deal, no strategic reward to follow putting herself in danger. Yet if it made him happy, maybe in some cheesy parallel universe, that was enough.

"Haven't we got pumpkins to carve," diverting the subject quickly.

He hummed agreement and went to the back porch where he had put away the pumpkins.

"So how do we do this?" she asked, holding the largest kitchen knife Bruce didn't even know he owned.

"Well you slice off the top," he explained, reaching for a smaller knife and demonstrating somewhat haphazardly. Twisting off the pumpkin's hat, he continued, "then you shovel out the middle with a spoon."

Natasha sliced across the vegetable in one smooth motion that simultaneously impressed and frightened Bruce.

The first shot, she'll argue, was accidental, the metal utensil slipping slightly firing pumpkin seeds and mess at the scientist.

"Hey!" he protested, as the wet orange strings hit his face.

She covered her open mouth first in shock and then to stifle laughter. His return blow began an all out war, the kitchen orange when they finally ran out of ammo. Only with him did she want to be childish, he alone could make her giggle until her sides hurt and cheeks flushed.

"And then we try and clean up the mess," he joked examining the kitchen.

"I'll go grab a couple of towels."

Both were used to mess of one kind or another and neither exactly squeamish. She was grateful her hair was hidden in a ponytail otherwise she would have vegetable all through it.

"Here," she chucked him a towel allowing him to clean out some of the pumpkin inevitably caught in his cute brown curls.

"Now you think about what design you're going to do then you can pencil it out on the pumpkin face or just grab a knife and stab it."

She went to the laptop; if she was going to do this she was determined to do it well. Even after years of Halloween celebrations, Bruce was happy to make the same goofy face out of his pumpkin. With slanted teeth and funny eyebrows it reminded him of happier childhood memories. It was only when he was done and thought about searching for a candle to go inside, that he realised Natasha wasn't there.

"Nat?" he called out.

Out on the porch surrounded by discarded pumpkin pieces, she sat cross legged finishing her design. In the face of orange, she had carved the A that was now associated with their team so strongly. Not completely cutting out the design she kept the white flesh of the pumpkin so that the design truly glowed. The lines were precise and she'd lie if she tried to pretend she wasn't proud.

"My cheesy face is being shown up slightly," he joked as he passed her a few tea lights to place inside.

They sat on the deck that night, watching the orange glow flicker from within the pumpkins.

* * *

A week passed and Nat found herself pulling on a red and black checkered shirt. She'd snuck a hand gun into the glove box of Scarlett, because in skinny black jeans she was never going to be able to hide one in her waist band. This evening was supposed to be fun, she tried to remind herself.

"Nat, you coming?" the doctor exclaimed from the bottom of the stairs.

She pulled on some boots and followed her companion into the car. The drive was silent, she trusted him to know where they were heading. Pulling into a field, he aligned his car along a row of other cars. Following the light from the bonfire, Nat grabbed his hand to gain some balance on the uneven ground and to remind him he wasn't alone.

"Delightful to see you two!" Sally exclaimed about to hug them before Luca and Caroline beat her to it. When they finally let go, Sally suggested, "come and get a drink."

Each with a cup of mulled wine, the pair began to mingle and Natasha could see the way Bruce's face lit up with company. She was introduced as his friend. Introduced to everyone it would seem. When the good doctor was cajoled into talking to a group of older ladies, the redhead stood idly in the field. Until a young man approached.

"Hi there." A very blonde, tall, slender fellow, softly spoken and dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt. "Callum," he introduced himself politely.

"Natasha," the shortened version of her name belonged only to three men: Clint, Bruce and Steve.

"Everyone knows who you are. You and Bruce are dating right?"

"Oh no, just friends. I'm staying with him for a while."

"Well if that's the case, could I ask for this dance?"

Strewn across the grass were several couples, slow music blasting out of somebody's truck. Making an excuse would require a reason. Wanting to avoid any confrontation, she wrapped her hand round the one he'd offered before her. The gentle spinning was peaceful.

"You like him don't you?" Callum asked, one shoulder on her hip the other firmly attached to her hand.

"Not like that."

"Sure," he smiled knowingly.

She's clearly spent too far away from her work if it was that obvious to a complete stranger.

"They always say the best way to get a guy to notice you is to make him jealous and if you need someone to help with that I'm more than happy," she laughed genuinely at his attempt at charm. "Worth a shot at least." Looking up at him, Callum told her softly, "he's a good man."

"The best."

The sudden eruption of fireworks pulled them apart, Natasha instinctively stepping back and searching for the source of the noise.

"Don't wait too long," he said before stepping off into the darkness.

Anybody else would be jolted, mentally, by such a ghost like presence but Natasha was thankful, if only because it made her more appreciative of Bruce's warmth when she returned to it. Despite his urge to know, Bruce refrained from beginning an inquisition. What right did he have? They weren't together. Sitting on the tailgate of the truck they watched the black sky burn loudly from the rockets launched. Caroline, Luca and some of the other local children ran around the grass with sparklers while tired parents watched on smiling. With no word, not even a look across at the scientist, Natasha took his hand. Refusing to turn to see him, she enjoyed the colours, the vitality the scene seemed to possess.

 _Why couldn't everything be this simple?_ She wondered.

Then she remembered a Kip Moore lyric to a song she'd listened to just that day:

 _What good's love if it ain't a little complicated_

 **Woohoo character growth! There will be more angst and action to come so please stick with me, thank you guys so much for everything**


	12. Chapter 12

**A short chapter featuring the big guy (who I'm not terribly good at writing so be gentle in your reviews). Hope you enjoy :)**

'Triggers' is a misnomer. It suggests you know the bullet is about to go off, that you're even holding the gun. Really the shot is half way travelled before you even know it's gone of. Anything can do it. For Bruce, that day, it was simply the date.

Natasha was just chatting, mindlessly talking about the growing development of SHIELD clear ups.

"Check it out," she slung the newspaper across the kitchen counter.

With Nat, days had fast rolled into weeks and those into months. He had barely noticed it was early December, but here it was, the 8th. Turning from his scrambled eggs, he eyed the front page. Natasha's voice began to become fuzzy, like static on the radio. Before he even knew he was moving he was heading for the door, the green creeping in at the edge of his vision.

"Doc," she tried to stop him but he flinched away from her violently, stumbling out the front door.

The ear shattering growl came as such a surprise to Natasha you'd have thought she'd never heard before. But she had, too many times. Grabbing his car keys, she sped off trying to chase the emerald shadow. Even with her foot to the floor she couldn't catch him, all that she could hope was that he'd slow soon. A tree crack echoed. Following the noise she turns off the road, thank goodness he had a 4x4. The path of tree destruction lead to a valley over looking the loch. Let's hope the Hulk can swim because she couldn't seen anything. Grabbing her gun she bolted downwards. The Big Guy was facing away from her, digging. On his knees, he was surrounded by dirt.

"Hey Big Guy," she had to say it twice, the first time she was too timid.

Turning he looked at her and she worried he might cry, but then he screamed. Hurrying round to the front of the hole, he continued to ignore her. Plans had to be made and fast.

"Bruce!" That got his attention, if only to make him angrier. "It's just you and me Big Guy. It's too early for this. Come back with me." A very aggressive answer replied. "So that's a no. Let's just stay here then." She sat down on the grass he hadn't dug up.

The Hulk had an overtly expressive face so the surprise at her actions were evident. But he didn't care, he just kept digging, deeper and deeper. Anger is like a fog; descending preventing your vision but you carry on whatever you were doing anyway. The Hulk growled then screamed downward facing the dirt. A word continually flashing through his mind:

Betty

His heavy limbs grew weaker.

"Big guy," she began tentatively. "The sun's getting real low."

Like Pavlov's dogs, he was beginning to know what that meant. Some part of Bruce was clearly fighting back because the beast relented after some time, reaching for his companion's hand.

Next to a ditch, Bruce reemerged. Nat had put spare clothes in the car as a precaution which she sourced for him now. For hours it seemed they watched the ripples of the loch, saying nothing but knowing a conversation was needed.

"It's um," Bruce interrupted, his voice gruff and hard after the transformation, "it's the day Betty and I had our um first date I guess." Natasha didn't say anything instead forcing the good doctor to fill the silence. "We met at a party a couple weeks before but I finally took her out. Kissed her under the Christmas lights in a beautifully decorated side street."

"It's okay to miss her, to mourn it."

 _That's not the issue_ , he thought, _I've mourned and I've missed but that's not it. The problem is I can feel myself moving on, falling for another beautiful woman_.

"Can we just go home? Have some tea, maybe get analytical later."

She nodded, helping him up, slowing her walking so he didn't feel left behind. They followed through with their plan and sitting on the couch together, where they ended up falling next to each other, was a little bit wonderful.

 **Let me know what you think :)**

 **Have a great day, and a Happy Holidays xx**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello everyone. So cute feelings during a storm :P Enjoy x**

Rain is something you really have to get used to in Scotland and over the last couple of months Natasha had come accustomed to the rather miserable weather. However, this wasn't just a drizzle, a full out storm was raging outside.

"Storm Katie, according to the news," she yelled through to Bruce in the kicthen.

He was unpacking tins, their emergency food in case this storm kept raging.

"Wow it's got a name, must be bad," he replied walking back into the kitchen. Her confusion was either evident or he simply knew her too well, because he carried on, "it's a risk perception thing. If people hear this storm has a name apparently it makes them listen to the advice more and it has to reach a certain intensity before it gets a name."

"So if we call alien threats, cutsy names like Fluffy would people actually listen and evacuate instead of getting their mobiles out?"

Months ago the possibility of being stuck in the house with Bruce would've worried Natasha, now it was just like every other evening. Except with the possibility of thunder and lightning.

"So Titanic or Notting Hill?" he asked, holding up the two DVDs for her to choose.

"Notting Hill," she smiled.

Both of them wondered why on earth they forced themselves to watch romcoms together when…well since they had, feelings. The two of them had seen enough gore and horror for several lifetimes that means they have no interest in watching dark films designed to scare.

Their routine was so well founded. She set up the TV, he got the wine. The right side of the couch was hers, the left his. Crossed legs for her, while he proposed his sock clad feet on the coffee table in front. Dancing in the middle of he cushions were their fingers, hands never holding but their digits tangling in each others. You know, in a totally platonic way.

As Hugh Grant was running into the Ritz about to have his romantic ending, darkness. The black stand by screen appeared and Bruce let out an unhappy sigh. The red head giggled at the doctor's romantic nature that was being revealed. Ignoring her, he went for the light switch.

"Yep, electricity is out. Probably Katie," he explained.

"Ah damn you Katie!"

"I'll get the candles."

"I'll check if the gas is working."

It was, thankfully, enabling Nat to make some dinner for the pair that didn't come out of a can.

"Doc!" she called through when the meal was ready. Where was that man? "Doc," she tried successfully again before relenting and walking into the living room holding her dinner plate in one hand, his in the other.

The living room glowed in the fiery light of what seemed like an endless number of candles. Tea lights and scented candles bordered the room.

"What is this?" she asked. A stupid question which she knew as soon as soon as she said.

"Er well for light," Bruce stumbled unsure of what she meant.

"Yeah I know," covering her idiot self and that feeling he'd done this for her. "I just mean it looks a bit like a satanic ritual."

As his shoulders rose with laughter, hers relaxed and she tiptoed to the couch. Reaching for his bowl, the physicist suddenly realised how hungry he was. She was beginning to out do him as the chef of the house. Her ankles rested on his thighs, an area he then used to place his bowl on.

"Hey! My legs are not a table."

"And mine are not a foot stool but you don't see me complaining!" he retaliated.

With his knuckles, he stroked her bare feet.

"Stop, don't!" she smiled.

"Is the deadliest assassin on earth ticklish?" he teased her, his hovering fingers threatening to continue their assault on her feet.

"Deadliest assassin, you better remember that. I'll show you evidence of that if you try that again."

The burning desire to hear her laugh again was worth the possibility of a slow painful death. Stroking her feet made the Russian curl and giggle.

"You bastard," she said, gaining enough control to pull him on top of her.

Laughter was soon replaced by panting. Bruce could feel that bubbling emotions he usual thought was the arrival of someone else. But this fury was angry, it was lustful and hungry and it wouldn't be long before Nat knew about it unless he got off her. Placing one foot on the floor, he stumbled upward.

"I'll go clean the plates you know in the kitchen," he avoided her eyes and grabbed the unclean crockery.

Pulling down her shirt to cover the skin between her scar and her waistband, she realised how blurry everything with Bruce seemed to be. Touching him was exciting and new. He didn't look at her like damaged goods, but an unignorable fear overtook her whenever they seemed to get closer, forever waiting for him to walk away.

Looking at the dishes in the sink, his self hatred gathered, manifesting in his mind like a sickness.

"Bruce, breathe."

Her voice stung in a painful, wonderful way.

"Don't let him win," she commanded him.

Natasha was the key to calming the Big Guy down. But she has an unwanted ability to stir up every emotion in Bruce. Eyes closed he could feel her, feel his slowly soothing heart.

Gazing finally at her, he promised, "I won't tickle you anymore I promise."

Hiding and forgetting. Was this their plan forever?

"Let's get back to the couch," she advised.

It wasn't long until the doctor had fallen asleep, curled on the end of the couch like a cat. Glazing over the room, the glasses, the pens, she spied a small notebook. Presuming it was more equations, she was surprised to see her name on the opening page.

 _Questions for Nat_

She read the scrawled on pages of his book at the questions he'd asked, what he wanted to know. Hiding wasn't their relationship, it was learning, patiently. This genius wanted to know the stupidest things about her vile existence. As she felt her self esteem dipped she turned another page to see:

 _Do you realise how beautiful you are?_

 **Leave a comment below, thank you x Have a great day**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hi there! I know I've had a lot of new followers which is lovely so thank you. Hope you all enjoyed Civil War and are having a good time at the moment where ever you may be. This is a very short chapter, leading up to what I hope will be a fun few chapters with Cap and Bruce.**

* * *

Going off grid, meant getting off the phone, or at least keeping it hidden. Using encryption tricks she'd picked up at work and just generally keeping her phone number very, very private, Natasha managed to have a mobile close. Bruce knew about it too; his number was one of her few contacts. Also he was the recipient of most of her goofy selfies; ones where she still managed to look cute. Ultimately that meant when her phone rang, she needed to pick to up because someone needed her on the other end. Next to her laptop, on the marble kitchen counter top, her phone vibrated, like it was trying to run away.

"Hello," she asked, still focusing on the screen. A pause, then a slow inhale. "Hello?" she asked again, her anxiety growing from her stomach into her voice box and out into her words. Looking down at the phone, her eyes found the caller ID. "Cap?" Still there was nothing but the sound of his haggard breaths. "Steve?"

"Hey," his raspy voice finally replied. "Bucky is…well nothing's changed, every lead feels colder than the last." The exhaustion, emotional and physical, from whatever he just endured was hanging in his voice and hurting Nat with every word. "I want to see Peg. Bad day to go, I guess. She couldn't…didn't even know who I was."

"Where are you?" she asked desperately.

"Stark's. Haven't left my room since. Think even Tony is starting to worry, to care."

"Of course, he cares. You haven't eaten, have you?" she continued questioning, shutting the lid of her laptop, her attention on her friend.

Steve didn't know why he'd called, or why he'd picked her particularly. After New York the team were cemented, obviously and since being honest to him and to the world, Nat guessed they were friends. Although she didn't understand why anyone would want to be anywhere near the ticking time bomb that she was.

"Okay, please eat, if you can. And I'm on my way," she replied with certainty.

He ought to have refused, turned around and assured her that she didn't need to be there; he couldn't though, the strongest man in the world and he just could not do it.

"Bruce!" the doctor hurried to his redhead roommate.

"Everything okay?" he asked worriedly.

"I'm going to New York, I need to be there." She wasn't apologetic, just assured in her plans and running through her next plans.

"Do you want me to come?"

It's a myth, that somehow when the person you like says or does something that you adore, that defying all laws of physics the world somehow stops for a second. But, the running to do list in Tasha's head did hit pause.

He asked before he could really think, and she replied just as spontaneously quickly.

"Yes."

For once it their relationship, it seemed, there was no question just straight answers. Really, they were each internally questioning and analysing their own actions and the others reactions. Their fear, however, didn't overshadow that growing bubble that might actually be happiness.

"I guess I'll pack," he responded slowly, figuring out what exactly all of this meant.

"I'll get the tickets," she nodded.

Looking at each other again they paused and slid past each other.

Vacation time, I guess.

* * *

 **Oooh exciting :) I will try and update soon but my exam period starts soon xx Have a great day!**


	15. Chapter 15

**It has been months and I am extremely sorry but for your continued support I am extrememly grateful and to be honest rather undeserving at this point I fear. I just wanted to say a quick and massive thank you to Kikspiesova for giving me a review that gave me faith to write again. I do hope you enjoy this chapter.**

While Bruce dozed, wrapped in an aeroplane blanket, Nat sat bolt upright, making plans. Landing in the early hours from passing security and the drive to Stark's, she would be outside Steve's door by 8am. Not necessarily well rested but she had dealt with sleep deprivation before and she knew her limits well. Whether she would look after herself to not meet those limits was another question. So desperately, for reasons she would not explore, she wanted to grip the scientist's gentle hand that lay so closely to her, on the arm rest between them. However, she restricted herself and carried on planning and while she would never consider Steve a job or this a mission, she acted as if it were so. To protect herself from the idea Captain America, the moral rock, was shaking.

* * *

On the streets of New York, Bruce's senses immediately heightened. More people meant the higher risk he posed; at least that was how he considered it. But this time he had Nat, her faith in him. In the back of the cab, he looked over at the redhead. Looking out the window, her face was stern, her eyes focused. She had said very little to him, her mind working away, but he knew this had to do with one of the Avengers, she wouldn't drop everything for anyone else. Maybe, he ought to analyse further his own willingness to leave everything behind to be by her side. However, the focus wasn't on him but her. Whatever had brought them back to New York, it also brought him to Tony and the extensive labs of the Stark Tower once more. While, the scientist loved the peace he found in Scotland, the security of the countryside, he had missed his eccentric billionaire of a friend, had missed their work and play together. The city's streets were busy, rushing like always, like all was the same, when he knew, looking at hr face, her worry lines, something was very different.

The tower was as it had been when Bruce left, if a bit messier. Jarvis welcomed then, informed Nat Steve was in the gym.

"Banner," an excited Tony said when he saw the scientist standing in his kitchen again. Iron Man pulled him into a close, tight hug. Stepping back he smiled and said quietly and simply, "you've been missed. Natasha?"

"Looking for Steve," Bruce replied.

Tony nodded knowingly. "Fancy coming to see Jarvis's updates?"

"Sounds good."

* * *

Stark's gym was a place Natasha had taken out her rising dark thoughts, spent nights punching her way until sunrise. Now she was here for the man punching the bag hard enough to pull it off its hinges, stopping himself just enough to keep his target alive. She could see in his punches his concentration that refused to waver and would not do so for anything. Making heavy steps before him she could see his eyes pick up but he carried on regardless like she wasn't there. It took Nat placing her hand on the bag and commanding him to stop for Steve to back off, panting and sweaty. The disregard he seemed to have for her was so off character it almost frightened her, but obviously she didn't let this fear and surprise spread to her face. Pacing away from her, he reached for a towel to mop his damp face and unbind his knuckles. Cap knew her promise of travelling to him would be fulfilled, but that didn't mean he was ready to face the Russian. She sat down on the mats covering the gym floor waiting for him to speak and knowing she wouldn't leave.

"I didn't think you'd come," he said.

"Lie," she retorted but maybe it was just hopefulness. She wanted him to know she was there of him, even if she wasn't the best at finding the words for it. "And either way, I'm here now. And since I've been on a plane for nearly eight hours I really don't feel like fighting you right now. But I can listen." Yes, she had planned on going about this in a more sensitive, around the bush way but clearly exhaustion had taken away any sentimental plans. So here she was, sitting on the floor waiting for Steve to come down to her level.

"Holding," he spoke softly, "holding everything together is just beginning to feel impossible. The people…the friends I had are gone, Bucky, Peg. I'm supposed to be this solider, an Avenger, unbreakable and it's just all-" Unceremoniously, like Atlas finally becoming too weak to hold the world, Steve dropped to his knee resting an arm on his thigh as his shoulders shook with sobs.

Seeing her friend so pained and troubled for the first time was near overwhelming. However, as she well knew, right now she didn't matter, he did. The super soldier had been entrusted with the safety and well being for so long, it seems he'd forgotten to give a damn about his own. So as a regiment carries its weakest and injured back to camp, she sat with him, protecting him.

As his crying calmed, she managed to get him all the way to the thankfully empty kitchen of Stark tower. With coffee and toast in him, his colour seemed to return though she still found herself chatting far more than her companion. Though she supposed this was probably better than having to face probing questions about her experiences these recent months.

"Nat," he stopped her as she spoke rather hastily about the weather. "Thank you but I need to rest."

She smiled as he returned to his dorm.

Loudly enough so she may hear, Steve coughed before admitting, "you've been missed round here."

* * *

It was unsurprising after having to spend months in close quarters with her that Bruce was avoiding the redhead, she convinced herself. Sitting on the balcony she had left Tony a few moons ago, she looked out of the skyline; grateful for the city's unstoppable noise, sure she could not face the quiet of Garelochhead this evening. She would check on Steve before she went to bed and wake him in the morning if he didn't beat her to it. Nat would also be able to see Stark again, who she had missed although he would never hear it from her. A tapping on the glass behind caused her to turn. There stood the scientist with a small wave and a plastic bag in hand, his hopeful expression changing to a certain smile when she gesture he come and join her.

"I thought you may have missed some things these past months," Bruce started, sitting down beside her. She became hyper aware of his hoodie wrapped around her shoulders, but knew he wouldn't comment, his awkwardness preventing any teasing on his part. "So I went out, after Tony and I had a play in the lab, and picked up bagels, cheesecake, milkshakes and Russian vodka, of course."

Her lips curved upwards and he flashed his teeth at the sight. Things had changed with everyone over these past months, but she realised it wasn't all bad. And the unexpected contentment she had experienced gave her a renewed hope that Steve would return to himself again. Until he did, he needed time to do so, she would be not close by eating cream cheese bagels, sipping Oreo milkshakes and listening to Bruce explain the new coding thing Tony was working on.

Emerging from his room to retrieve a glass of water, Steve, in nothing but sweatpants, looked out upon the evening sky to see his two friends, close and laughing. Looking relaxed and joyful, he left them be, not letting them become aware of his presence.

 **What are your thoughts? Let me know, positive, negative, anything in between I love hearing from you all. Thanks and have a great day!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Thank you for all the recent reviews, it's been so lovely to see them and I'm really grateful for them, you guys are the reason I write. Particular thank you to** srhittson **for the suggestion of Nat going to visit Clint's farm. I hope this chapter lives up to what you were hoping. Everybody enjoy!**

Steve was sturdy and before long back to his usual self; that being moving apparently important pieces of Tony's tech around in an attempt to clean. "It looked like trash." "This is a defining cog in what will be the most incredible super suit ever created!" was a conversation Nat and Bruce had heard in quite a few iterations by now. Though Tash was happy to hear them argue knowing it meant Steve was beginning to return to himself. No longer would the Russian spy have to force him on New York walks with her just so he'd get some fresh air every day. Without the distraction though she noticed things she wished she didn't. Like how Bruce's bed was comfier than the one in her new room; old, it would sink deep in the middle, the quilt and mattress enveloping you in his scent. She thumbed his notebook of questions occasionally and only ever when she was in certain privacy.

"Why does he care about knowing all this about me?" she wondered internally.

They'd had months in close quarters and their very different schedules back in New York gave way for a new tradition. At all hours, when either suffered nightmares- or more commonly both- the pair found their way to one of the mainly balconies of Stark Tower. Bruce continued to buy in local treats like cheesecake. He managed to remind her how much she loved foods she had completely forgotten about. Since it was never dark in the city it was often hard to tell when they're nights began but they always ended at sunrise, like some reverse Cinderella. Though they didn't often speak to each other in the day the pair hoped, without having the guts to say it, that the other knew they were always there for them.

* * *

As she was searching for her comfy sweatpants, now her workout with Steve was done, her fingertips traced the leather jacket she still held on loan. The slow pace of Clint's farm sounded quite appealing right now. With no fears of Steve being okay without her, she revelled in the idea of being able to see the kids again after so long away. She might even, given the confidence, ask Laura about her...feelings- maybe. Haphazardly for her, she threw a few things into the barely unpacked duffel and departed her room. If she were honest, she'd know that while she loved spending time with Bruce she felt like they were fast approaching implosion and she thought time away might mean she could hold onto their simple bliss a little longer.

Steve stood at the kitchen counter, staring intently at the laptop screen in front with half a piece of buttered toast in his mouth.

"I work you so hard you're running away," the super soldier joked as he saw the Russian walk into the kitchen.

"In your dreams, Cap," she quipped. "Actually, I was planning to take a break, just a week or so away from this. I know I just got back but-"

"I'm fine," he assured her, with a certainty she knew he couldn't fake.

Dipping her head, she asked, "where are the two idiots at anyway?" She was a world class spy and an incredible linguist, but she couldn't find a way to ask this subtlety that didn't make her sound like a stupid teenager.

"Stark said something about needing some parts so I think they went to one of his other labs. I wasn't really listening, I didn't realise it would be important."

"It's not," she replied, too quickly. "Just when Banner gets back tell him I'll be back in a week, make sure he knows I'm coming back."

"Sure," Steve nodded before asking, "and what should I tell Tony?" He knew it didn't matter and he wasn't trying to push her away just, maybe to say he was there for talking not whatever.

She eyed him threateningly that would've been scarier if she wasn't also smiling. "You've got my number, if any of you need to get me. And your right hook is getting sloppy, you're gonna want to work on that." Having had the final word she made her way down the basement garage.

* * *

It took Bruce until the evening to finally ask about Nat and where she was. Though they didn't run into each other a lot in the tower, he'd still expect to see her and he was getting worries. Plus, he needed to know whether or not to go out for more cheesecake.

As Cap was heading off to his room, probably for some sleep, he took his chance. "Err, Ste."

"Yeah," Steve replied, turning to face the doctor across the wide expanse of the kitchen area.

The doctor's hands moved often from being balled in front of him, to running through his curls, finally landing in the pockets of his chinos. While the super soldier waited for the nervous Banner to speak again, not wanting to push, he rested his hip on the marble counter top by his side.

"I just wondered If you'd um seen Natasha around today, you know in the tower or wherever," the physicist stumbled through.

He knew he should've told Bruce straight away when he saw him next about what Natasha had said, but he was protective of the Russian, particularly since she'd helped his emotional wounds. He really wasn't ready to let anyone hurt the woman he saw as something of a sister. So Steve had waited to see how long it would take Bruce to notice her absence and barely half a day since her departure here the nervous brunette stood, worrying and missing her. People often presumed Cap knew little about people, since that whole missing a lifetime trapped in ice situation, but he knew what falling in love looked like, and right now Bruce Banner was the image of fallen.

"Yeah, she said she was taking a break for a week, sorting some stuff out, getting out of the city and stuff," Steve explained to the nodding man, who was about to return to work with Tony when, "she wanted me to tell you, it was only a week and that she was coming back, she's not leaving you Banner."

"Oh, err, okay, thanks," the blush was creeping up his neck and he really wanted to return to the safety of whiteboards, equations and tech.

In the lift down to the lab, that half minute gap, he gave himself a chance to feel happy, remind him that he mattered not just to someone, but to someone extraordinary. He stepped, nearly skipped, back to work and while Tony was curious why his lab partner seemed so much lighter, he wanted to get this finished tonight and gossip would slow them down.

* * *

The drive to the Barton farm was glorious. Biking her way up the highway, she loved the distracting focus driving brought. Winding down the quiet, tree lined roads, she grew more excited to see the family who had very much taken her in. Pulling up, Clint was outside with Cooper and a remote control helicopter. The toy was neglected however when Aunt Natasha arrived and scooped him up into her arms. The agent smiled at his friend.

"Nice to have you home," he smiled. As they walked into the house, Clint announced, "look who I found."

Standing up from where she was playing with her daughter, Laura walked into the hall, slightly bemused by her husband's comment. To see her red head friend standing by their door was such joyful surprise and pulled the agent into a close hug, with little thought.

"You look really well," Laura told her, as Nat held her ever growing youngest to her hip. This comment wasn't to be polite or cordial but sincerely true. Laura hadn't seen the agent glow like this before and while of course she still had an amazing figure this had been improved by her filling out. Too often Nat had appeared at their home looking almost hollow after exhausting missions where she barely ate.

Aunt Natasha was showed countless drawings and new toys by both children, not that she minded in the least. While their children were contentedly distracted, Laura whispered to her husband, "she looks so happy."

"I think she might have a man in her life. I told you about that jumper she was wearing in Paris, it definitely wasn't hers. Do you want to ask her about?" Clint hoped the answer was yes, not because he was nosy but rather if there was someone in Natasha's life he certainly wanted to check if they were good enough and that they knew any harm and they would be facing down the Avengers.

"Yeah, I'll see if she wants to talk." Looking back at the wonderful person she was grateful her children could call aunt, "I know you said, we'd keep this a secret. I mean we haven't even talked to the kids yet-"

"Of course, you should tell her, if that's what you want," her husband quietened her nerves.

"I do," she smiled before kissing this gorgeous man sweetly.

* * *

The Russian spy collapsed, exhausted from the children. Workouts with Steve were less knackering than small children could be. She sipped on red wine while Laura, insisted her guest didn't, washed up from dinner while Clint put their kids to bed.

"By the way, I have your leather jacket Clint lent me," Nat told her.

Laura walked away from the sink and to the couch deciding this could be a good lead in. "Er well you could keep it if you like, I don't know how much I'll really get a chance to use it."

"Why?" the redhead sat up, concerned.

"Because, well because tomorrow marks the beginning of," she winded slowly. "Well I'll be 12 weeks pregnant."

"Oh my God," the Russian exclaimed, pulling her friend in for a close hug. "Congratulations!"

Relief swept Laura as she wrapped her arms round the spy's back. Knowing what she did about Natasha's past, she feared this would upset her but truly Nat was just so happy for his two friends.

"Congratulations," she said again when they'd let go of each other.

"Thanks," Laura sniffed through happy tears. "Wasn't exactly planned but I'm so excited. And I'm just so grateful, the two of us have your support already, and for keeping Clint safe."

"Guess you kind of owe me then," she smirked. "It would only be right to name her Natasha after all my help," to which her friend snorted delightfully.

"We don't even know if it's a girl yet," she reminded her friend.

"It'll be a girl I'm sure."

Clint walked into the room announcing, "just got them both down. How's everything down here?"

His worries about his tearful wife subsided when Natasha stood up and said, "congratulations, Barton" and gave him a rare hug.

"Thanks, Romanoff," he smiled at her before going to kiss his beautiful wife.

Nat knew she couldn't have this, the perfect family life the Barton's had created for themselves despite evil aliens and demigods trying to interfere. But for the first time, it didn't seem as far away as before. Annoyed at the clichéd fantasy, she focused her attention back on the couple and her continued attempts to get them to agree to name the new baby Natasha.

 **Thoughts? Let me know in the reviews. Thanks for reading and have a great day!**


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